The Fine Line
by TheSpaceSaga
Summary: The Doctor and Donna are pulled to a world where fiction reigns supreme. There they find a place where their lives are bound together like the pages of a book, fact and fiction are separated by a fine line, and where familiar faces turn up from nowhere. This world is wrong. Who is the Wordsmith? And how is he dragging people from different time zones to one point in time and space?
1. Prologue

**The Fine Line**

**Prologue**

It was perfect. The dazzling light from the thousand suns cut daggers of intense brightness through the Bridge's many portholes. It shone with a lurid orange glow, its warmth spreading to even the shadowed areas of the small, cluttered room. Captain Benson heard the ship's battered hull sigh with relief. He did the same. It had been eight months since he'd seen any sort of natural light. His skin was as white as a sheet, mottled with purple streaks of the blood vessels coursing and pulsing their way beneath.

Yes, it had been a long, long time. Shielding his dulled eyes from the glare, Captain Benson pulled the radar screen towards him. It really was perfect. There they were, the thousand suns of the Juled System, all burning brightly as big red dots on his scanner. There were an impossible number of them, maybe nowhere near a thousand but still closely packed together in tight formations. _Like soldiers on parade, _he thought silently to himself.

He edged round the many consoles to the bow of the ship, where the pilot's seat was situated. Of course, Captain Benson was the pilot. He was everything on this ship. The skipper, the pilot, the navigator, the cook and his own company. Nobody had wanted to come with him. They called him mad, and stupid to go wandering off in his tiny little SpaceSloop, 'The Crimson Blossom', especially in unexplored territory. They told him the ship would be torn to bits, smashed by the perils of the dark journey.

Captain Benson didn't listen. He loved his ship more than anything, and would never let it get filched by renegade pirates from the Shadow Colonies, or torn apart by the microscopic Rust Mites that roamed the void of space. All of that had almost happened, and in that time he had saved her. Bursting with pride and the thought of the look on his friends faces when he got home from this sacred place, Captain Benson switched off the autopilot on his vessel and steered her closer to one of the suns. To prove he had actually come this far, he was required to collect and store solar energy from one of them.

Of course, back home doing this was illegal. But out here, in the freedom of lawless space, he could do what he liked, when he liked. He flicked a switch to the right of him, opening up the intakes of one of the reserve engines and letting it feed on the pure rays that streamed across the stars. The ship seemed to breathe in deeply, enjoying its long awaited meal. Captain Benson was once again forced to breathe in and out with her, taking in the strange copper scent in the air.

Disconcertingly, it smelt of blood. He sat bolt upright from his relaxed position and gave another hesitant sniff. It definitely smelt of blood, freshly cut and dripping. Thinking it was him, he checked his arms and torso, even though he knew he would be able to feel it if he'd hurt himself. Nothing. The smell was growing stronger by the second until it choked the very air in the room. Captain Benson, still sceptical, switched on the autopilot once more and got up out of the chair. He headed for the hold, where the main and reserve engines were located.

Maybe it was the solar energy being soaked up, and leaking out of the engines? They were, after all, very old in comparison to the other ships from his home planet. His father had brought him into the world of Golden Age Exploration, when the ships were built lovingly from hand instead of mass produced in some factory on Villengard. The Crimson Blossom was from that hallowed time, and it fascinated him since his childhood how ships like this one were over a hundred years old and still capable of sailing into the unknown – whilst the 'earth-shattering' vessels of today would crumble and die in ten or twenty years.

Captain Benson was proud to inherit this ship from his father – and keep the timeless beauty going. After all he'd been through no engine failure was going to stop him now. As he reached the hold, the smell seemed to get ever more stronger, until his head throbbed with the pain of having to breathe it in. He bent over one of the reserves, staring intently at the metal frame. Nothing was wrong with it. Everything was working correctly and there were no punctures at all. So what the hell was it then?

The stench was nearing unbearable. Captain Benson pulled a handkerchief from his boiler suit's pocket and placed it over his mouth, coughing with difficulty. He scoped the room for the source, although he didn't have a clue what he was looking for. His mind was addled. He no longer had any answers for the ridiculous questions spinning about his mind as he blundered around the room. It was only as he bent down to cough did he notice the hole in the floor.

It wasn't big. It looked like someone had taken a nail and driven it through the underside of the hull, despite the fact the metal was at least four feet thick. Rust Mites again? Captain Benson was now extremely confused, especially at the fact that no air was escaping from the hole. Even the slightest laceration would mean that as soon as he had opened the hold's main door, the vacuum should have blown him away. But there was nothing, just the terrible smell.

Not even the alarms had sounded. Baffled, Captain Benson ran his finger over the hole to make sure it was real. It was. As soon as his flesh touched the surprisingly smooth edge, it expanded. The hole grew longer and wider by the second, ripping and rending its way across the floor beneath his feet. Instinctively, Captain Benson backed off and headed for the door. He shook his head in sheer disbelief. He could now see the void of space right in front of him, looking so much more endless than it did through a porthole. The crates full of food and equipment simply vanished along with the floor in a split second, the somehow invisible force leaving nothing in its wake.

Captain Benson ran. What else could he do? Something was eating his ship and he could do nothing about it. Sweat and tears dripped from his face, his hands so clammy anybody would of thought he'd stuck them in a bucket of water. He ran to the bow of the ship and madly bashed any control he could find. No way were these Rust Mites. They never ate that quickly. But this, _creature _could do _so _much damage in _such_ little time.

The tear was coming closer, edging its way up the corridor and past the mess hall. Any second now it would be upon him. Captain Benson didn't even feel real. This _couldn't _be real. Could it? He should be dead. The tear made no noise. There was no sound of contorting metal or the vicious cry of whatever it was doing this. There was just silence, the hush of the galaxy. He slammed his fists on a panel, so desperate he couldn't remember the last time he'd taken a breath. Looking to his left, he saw the tear stop about a metre away from him.

He swore that he heard it laugh before it jumped on him like a starving, savage beast. The last thing Captain Benson recalled was a woman's voice in his head, so soothing and yet so hopeful.

'_The storm is coming.'_


	2. One

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Doctor Who, the BBC does. But Captain Benson is mine...you can't have him I'm afraid.

* * *

**One**

**The Wrong Way To Land…**

"What do you mean by, 'a storm'." Donna Noble was circling the central console, seemingly chasing after the frenzied Doctor. He was all over the place, switching things here and hammering something over there – it was like watching a circus act.

"It's nothing really. Just a _little _bit of strong turbulence in the vortex that's all."

As if in defiance to his words, the TARDIS spat and sparked as it violently flung itself about.

Donna almost fell flat on her face. "A little bit?"

But the Doctor wasn't listening. He was far too busy balancing precariously on the edge of the console, leaning at odd angles to try and reach the controls.

Just for a small, _miniscule _moment, Donna was scared. If there had been something else to hold onto apart from the console, she would have backed away from the controls as they spat and hissed like a harassed snake. She knew, deep down, something was wrong. The Doctor was having difficulty with his marvellous machine, and he wouldn't tell her what it was.

"Doctor-." She was rudely cut off.

"It's ok! Fine!" He said through gritted teeth as the mallet he had been so cleverly wielding flew over his head and clanged loudly against the metal railing behind him. "The console may never be the same again but all's well that ends well!"

The TARDIS was having none of this malarkey, and very suddenly lurched sideways, tipping the Doctor and Donna onto the grated floor in a second. Every twist and turn in the vortex was like being locked in a jam jar and shook about until your insides were no more than a horrible, mucky mush. Donna suddenly felt very sorry for that poor mosquito she killed when she was only eight or nine years old – it went through the exact same treatment as she was right now. The Doctor had grabbed hold of the makeshift chair, which were really stripped down car seats, and stared at the machine with slight confusion.

It was like an enraged bull, completely seeing red and charging about blind until it hit something or someone. Calmly and carefully, the Doctor reached down for the mallet with his spare hand, and with one well-aimed strike hit the TARDIS console. He had shattered something but right now, that was the least on the Doctor's mind. His ship had immediately stopped, its ancient engines slowing right down to an almost halt.

Donna sat up off the floor and rubbed her bruised head. It was nothing too bad, but now she had an annoying pain to deal with. "What the hell made it do that?"

"Me I think." He whipped out his glasses in a flash and stared intently at the central column. "And this really doesn't look good."

Donna hurriedly rushed to his side. The TARDIS' breathing was laboured and erratic. The central column rose and fell painfully slow, making the usually welcoming turquoise glow turn a sickly yellow. Worst of all, the engines were coughing and spluttering after what must have been a very tiresome two minutes for the old thing to cope with.

"This really, really, really _isn't_ good." The Doctor swiftly pulled up a part of the floor grating and dove down inside, sonic screwdriver brandished in a heartbeat.

Everything and anything was thrown out of the little space, all of it piling up in an untidy heap at Donna's feet. Some of the things that were stuffed in there really amazed her. There were even the handlebars of an old 1950's bike, the black paint rusting off and flaking everywhere. She gazed uneasily at the sick TARDIS, almost feeling sorry for it. "So what is actually happening to it? I mean, I've never seen it turn this yucky yellow colour before."

"No, I rarely have." His head poked up through the hole. "There's something very wrong with her and I think I know what."

"What is it then?"

The Doctor, once again, wasn't listening. His head was buried in wires and piping that snaked around him like some sort of slippery jungle Anaconda. Every so often a flash of electric blue light and a quiet humming noise would exude from where he was sitting, and if he wasn't careful an annoyed yelp of pain as a spark or two caught him unawares.

Donna gave an exasperated sigh. "Well if that's how you want to be I'll be in your gigantic wardrobe, snooping around without permission."

"Hm." Came the preoccupied reply.

With a roll of her eyes, Donna headed for the wardrobe, which was a bit more of her thing than sitting around buried in a mountain of machinery and wires. _That_ was what men did when the car broke down.

Of course, the Doctor didn't notice her leave. So there he sat for another half hour, chatting away about TARDIS', time and space like she was still there listening.

* * *

Captain Benson was alone. His world was dark, empty and frightening. When he called for help, his voice echoed as if the dark space he was in was a vast black crevice. For some reason, he couldn't feel anything. His entire body was numb and he felt so very cold – and so very far from home. He thought about home for a second, of the monumental fire he had in the drawing room, the observatory he had built by hand and the number of books that lined the walls of his library. He loved books. He also loved the stars, the brightness they give during the dark night and how they shoot across the sky like a golden firework.

But the one thing he loved more than anything was his ship – the silver beauty that let his spirit soar every time he jumped in the pilot seat and flew beyond the reaches of the galaxy. He would be gone for months at a time, maybe on his own or maybe with a few helpful friends he met at the spaceport. The thought of all these wonderful things he had made his heart leap with joy, but after a few happy moments, they sank and the shadowy prison he was currently trapped in pushed these thoughts away like a broom would with dust.

His memories felt alien and farfetched, like they weren't really his…but he was _so_ sure they were. Suddenly, out of the gloom there was movement. Captain Benson sub-consciously braced himself, his dead arms weakly raised as if he were preparing for a playground fight. At first, nothing happened. The only thing he could see was a pinpoint of white light in the distance, so small he had to squint really hard to see it. It looked like a glint of sunlight reflecting off a pane of glass – surprisingly blinding for its size.

With a surge of hope, he realised the light was getting slowly bigger. He tried to run towards it but his legs felt like they were rooted to the ground, like he was chained to this spot forever. A light wind was picking up. Captain Benson could feel it against his face, which at first seemed quite a pleasant change from the stuffy atmosphere he was currently living in. But straight away he knew something was wrong. The wind swiftly picked up the pace, and soon it ripped around him like a full-blown hurricane – tearing at his clothes and fair hair until he felt like he could lift up off the ground.

The light on the horizon was also rapidly changing. It started to open up to form a massive square in front of him, still as blinding as the sun. After a few moments, Captain Benson had to close his eyes, but in his mind he could picture so much. There was a story unfolding, and he was in the middle of it…

* * *

The Doctor had to admit, whatever was doing this to the TARDIS was very powerful. Nobody could make _his_ ship feel _this_ ill and get away with it. He looked up at the poor thing from where he had been kneeling for the past hour, agitated at the fact he was getting nowhere with repairing or helping her. She was still a horrible yellow colour, trying more than anything to breathe like she used to and stay on top of whatever it was smothering her systems.

The Doctor patted the console reassuringly, fiddling with the clump of wires he held in his aching hands. He had to be honest with himself – he barely had a clue what he was looking for. Everything seemed fine. Nothing was damaged or missing, no one seemed to be tampering with her from the outside, and yet she was fighting. The Doctor could sense it. She was fighting to keep herself in the time vortex, but it was making her sick.

Her engines gave a pitiful cough, the console shaking with the ever-mounting pressure of trying to stay alive. The Doctor _couldn't _give up. He jumped out of the hole in the floor, hurriedly replacing the grating as he went. No way was he going to lose his ticket to travel. He pulled the monitor screen round to face him, bringing up diagnostic reports and graphs of all shapes, sizes and languages. It was baffling. He scratched his head, not only worried but also very befuddled.

Slowly, the TARDIS monitor blinked weakly at him, and then everything he had been so carefully pouring over disappeared. The whole console jolted for the last excruciating time and then stopped altogether. Immediately the entire room was plunged into pitch darkness.

The Doctor's two hearts flipped in his chest. "No!" He banged the console with his fist, wishing he hadn't when a twinge of pain shot up his arm.

Ignoring it, he went to plan B. He grabbed his screwdriver that had been left on the console and thrust it into one of the many complicated controls. The lights flickered for a second, power trying desperately to flourish around the mainframe. It was no use. She had been flung out of the time vortex by some unknown force, her hull squealing and screeching as something tore from the outside – trying to get in.

Just at that moment, Donna came stumbling into the room, her face as white as a sheet with shock. "Now what's happening?"

"Everything's gone dead! And not to mention the fact we're being hauled somewhere!" The Doctor called across to her, a moment later thrown back by the sheer force of the unavoidable journey.

Once again the room was tipping up on every angle imaginable. The TARDIS could do nothing. Her engines had failed, and she was being pulled haphazardly through the cosmos – never stopping or fighting back once.

She was falling.


	3. Two

**Two**

**Walk It Off**

The Doctor woke with his head leant achingly up against the cold, hard steel of the outer railings. He just had to sit there for a moment, letting his pounding skull clear and the blurriness of his vision catch up with his racing mind. _TARDIS! _He jumped up from a very awkward position and eyeballed the faintly glowing room. Thankfully, the TARDIS was still alive. After a ride like that, he was getting worried that the incredibly bumpy landing was going to fry her systems, but the soft turquoise glow meant that through all that racing about she was at least recovering.

A light groan coming from the edge of the room snapped him back to the present. Donna sat up unsteadily, rubbing her head for the second time today. "Are we there yet?" She mumbled dreamily.

"It would seem like it." The Doctor said, hauling her to her feet. "You ok?"

"Hm, I suppose." She gazed around the room, her eyes lazily taking in all the details. "Where did we crash land then?"

"Very good question, next?"

He bounded over to the monitor, disappointed at the fact it was still not working.

After banging the screen a few times, he gave up. "Oh well, looks like we'll have to step out into the great unknown ourselves - the TARDIS is still charging up after our little detour."

The Doctor eagerly picked up his discarded screwdriver, stuffed it into his suit's inside pocket and dashed for the doors, Donna following in his over-excited wake.

"You said earlier Doctor, about us being pulled here, how did that happen?"

"Something or someone specifically locked onto us you see," He answered quickly, flinging open the door with immense speed and grace. "The TARDIS tried to stop them from dragging us away…"

His face dropped to an almost haunted stare as he took in the beautiful scenery surrounding them. Trees that looked to be a mile high stood over them, the upper leaf canopies creating a shaded clearing for the two travellers. The bracken was twisted and damaged with their roots churned up in the dirt ground, obvious evidence that the TARDIS not long ago had came crashing through here.

Despite the lush greenery and the most stunning trees Donna had ever seen, she couldn't help noticing that there was no birdsong. All she could hear was the light breeze rustling the leaves and smell that very distinct odour of the forest – wood and mud. The Doctor wasn't staring around in awe, instead his face was incredibly blank.

"And?" Donna asked, shaking his shoulder.

The trance was not broken, and his voice was unusually quiet. "…but something was different," He began. "It takes a hell of a lot of power to deactivate the TARDIS and drag it somewhere…"

Donna bent down to look at an unusual flower, its petals a vivid burgundy and shaped like maple leaves – and they were probably as big as them too. "Ah, that's the prettiest flower I've ever seen."

The Doctor at first didn't notice her lack of attention. "…we should have been somewhere else, and the TARDIS saved us…"

Suddenly, his eyes darted down at Donna, who was still admiring the botanical collection of the forest. "…I wouldn't touch that if I were you, it's worse than a piranha."

Donna's outstretched finger instantly stopped centimetres away from touching an attractive blue and white flower. It didn't take her long to notice the hundreds of thorns lining the purple stalk – and that they had teeth. Shivering with the thought of almost having the flesh ripped off her hand, she trotted to the Doctor's side. "So, what now then?"

"Um…finding civilisation I think." He turned and patted the TARDIS fondly before striding off into the depths of the woods. "The TARDIS won't be ready for quite a while so it's always worth a wander."

"Yeah, unless we get eaten by an alien bear with eight mouths or something." She chuckled, wondering if there actually was such a thing.

The Doctor answered her silent question. "Oh no don't worry, the bear only has five, and it eats tree bark not poor defenceless squirrels – or people."

In the distance came the sound of a booming roar, disconcertingly very similar to the noise of a Grizzly from Earth.

The Doctor smiled and twisted round to face her from his fast paced march, obviously happy to hear it. "There you are see! Perfect timing that was."

"Yeah sure it was." Donna replied sarcastically, secretly wishing they would never come across one to find out whether it was friendly or not.

They walked – and stumbled – through the forest for what seemed like a lifetime, the Doctor back to his old self and enthusiastically pointing out what he thought to be the most interesting bits of the planet's eco-system. Donna trailed on behind, trying hard to listen but getting distracted by the strange silence of the trees surrounding them. She gazed up at what she could see of the sky, realising straight away that it was the same unhealthy yellow colour of what the TARDIS had been not long ago.

Orange and red clouds were streaked across the heavens, the three suns burning brightly overhead. Still, Donna was surprised at how cool it actually was. The breeze had an edge of iciness to it, making her shiver from the unfriendly feeling this place gave her. Every step she took, the more she felt like they weren't really supposed to be treading this ground, almost like it was sacred. The Doctor jarred her from her troubled thoughts by suddenly stopping dead in his tracks. Donna accidentally walked into him. He was like a brick wall.

"Ow! What are we stopping for?"

The Doctor didn't reply. He was up on his tiptoes, staring straight ahead into the thick bracken. "I'm going to need a higher vantage point." He firmly decided, looking around him for a suitable tree. "This one'll do."

Donna watched, bemused, as he heaved himself up the thick trunk of an oak – or what she thought was an oak anyway. With surprising agility, he reached one of the sturdiest looking branches and sat down on it.

"Having fun up there?" Donna called rather loudly, which he dismissed with a flippant wave of his hand. Out of a pocket he produced a small little spyglass, bronze in colour and shining brightly in the dazzling sunlight.

The Doctor quickly adjusted the focus and zoomed in on what he could see. He was right, there was smoke in the distance. Great, grey tufts of it billowed freely from a couple of hundred yards ahead like a steam locomotive. What was it, some kind of settlement?

With an excited grin, the Doctor zoomed in even closer to get a better view of whatever it was causing this. There was a clearing, similar to the one the TARDIS was at but a lot bigger. There were ferns everywhere, some so tall they reached half way up the trees – talking of trees, a few were felled. There was a huge gouge in the ground that was quite a few metres wide and long, not to mention the piles of debris and litter scattered everywhere. Poking out through the foliage was a tailfin from some kind of spaceship or aircraft, green-grey in colour and alight with diminishing flickers of fire.

"What can you see then?" Donna called up again, only a little quieter this time.

"A crashed spaceship or a shuttle I think, and it's on fire." He answered, a serious frown now forming on his face. "I think we better take a closer look."

Now the Doctor could hear shouting coming from the crash site, a man by the sounds of it. He was cursing at something. A few moments later, there were three loud gunshots that resounded across the entire forest.

In an instant, the Doctor tucked away his spyglass and leaped down from the tree, stumbling as he dived into a frenzied sprint.

Donna tried her best to keep up with him, instincts telling her that maybe it wasn't the best thing to go running _towards _a gunshot, but she couldn't risk getting lost in this sort of wilderness. There were another two shots fired again, the sound piercing her ears with deafening pain as they ran closer and closer to whoever it was making this racket. The Doctor was well ahead of her, racing on like a Formula One car to get to the commotion. Donna couldn't help but think – why was he so desperate to get into the middle of what sounded like a fight?

* * *

He'd always had trouble with this ship. He got it off a guy from the desert planet of Khal-Hurun – bit of a shifty character, not one you'd trust to be your best friend – or save your life. He'd said in his poor English that 'it is a good ship, never failed anybody'. Of course, he'd never believed that lying scum for a second, even more so earlier that day when the bloody thing had come crashing down around him. Everything on the ship was newly upgraded; the engine, thrusters, computer systems and even the added feature of a shower that _actually _used water instead of oil and acid.

It had cost him a fortune, and in less than two minutes it was all gone. The ship's computer had detected a bug in the mainframe and had tried to neutralize it, but that was when it happened. The ship literally _did _come crashing down around him. Pieces of his ship were disintegrating into atoms right before his eyes – the pilot's seat, controls and even that amazing shower he had installed. It just disappeared, and he hadn't seen it since.

Luckily, his computer was no chump. It had tried to reverse the bug and save what little of the ship it could. In a way, it had succeeded. Sure, he may have been dragged half way across the galaxy to some planet he'd never even heard of, yet alone seen, but the main hull of the ship had survived and he crash landed on the planet relatively safely. The computer had died trying to save his life, but right now that was rather harshly the last thing on his mind. Now he would have to play jungle-man to try and survive in this godforsaken hell they call nature.

The food stocks had vanished along with several other of his personal belongings, but he still had his gun. He was sat on the remains of what was once the side wing of his ship, head in his hands and feeling damn right sorry for himself. He couldn't help it. He knew he should be getting busy and trying to find some shelter for the fast approaching night, but his mood was incredibly sour and right now all he could think of was how much he was going to kill the sadistic bastard who did this to him.

Out of the corner of his eye was a white flutter of paper that had got caught up on the destroyed generator. As he turned his head to look at it, he recognised the name written in bold letters at the top, 'TURIQ'S GREAT SHIP AND SHUTTLE EMPORIOUM!' Below it was a picture of the smiling man, his hand raised with a big, cheesy thumbs up – the man who had sold him the ship in the first place.

His anger and frustration and helplessness all exploded at once. Un-holstering his handgun, he piled three lead bullets into the thing, cursing and swearing so loud it was enough to frighten off the biggest and baddest creature this cesspool of a planet had.

A crashing sound coming from the forest ahead of him was enough to break his train of thoughts. There was a dull thudding of feet and the rustling of disturbed foliage as whoever – or whatever – it was came charging through the forest towards him.

"I'm ready for you." He cursed under his breath, raising the gun and firing off two warning shots into the bush. It didn't matter. He knew he had plenty more ammunition in his pocket. The commotion grew louder and louder until it must have been right on top of him.

Swiftly and expertly reloading his gun, he raised it at the ferns and bracken he could see moving. It wouldn't be accurate, but it would do to scare someone to death. He was going to shoot, but stopped. A man flew like a rocket out of the woods and came to an unsteady halt a couple of metres away from him. For a moment, they must have looked like over-dramatic actors standing there with they're mouths wide open in obvious shock. But it was a happy shock. He dropped his gun to the ground, it landing with a heavy clatter.

The man in front of him seemed to regain himself quite quickly, smiling and staggering about like a love-struck loon.

"Well, fancy meeting you here Captain Jack Harkness…"

* * *

By the time Donna had managed to catch up with the Doctor, she was very much out of breath and red in the face. She stumbled out of the forest and into the clearing, dead tired and feeling like she'd overstretched every muscle in her body.

"God…I haven't done that in a while…" She puffed, bending double with exhaustion. "I'm really going to get fit running around with you aren't I?"

There was no reply. Donna looked up and saw the Doctor and this _really _handsome bloke laughing their bloody heads off and patting each other on the back.

"Oi!" She shouted at them. "Don't I get a hug for running through what must have been a whole mile of forest?"

Both men stopped the cheery banter, by the looks of it slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry Donna," The Doctor apologised, scratching his head. "This is Captain Jack Harkness, an old friend of mine – and Jack, this is Donna Noble."

Jack extended his hand. "Very pleased to meet you."

Donna warily shook it. "And the man who was firing bullets at…well whatever it was you were firing at."

"Oh yeah, sorry about that." He subtly gazed around the clearing, searching for a quick answer. "I…I got a little pissed off with the engine…I'm fine now." He lied.

Donna couldn't help but smile.

The Doctor was looking at the crash site worriedly. "Was there anyone else with you in the crash?"

Jack sighed. "Nope. Just me."

"Oh, really?" The Doctor said, picking up a piece of paper with three bullet holes scored into the picture of a man. He winced. "What happened to Torchwood?"

Jack sat down on the wing of his ship again, obviously restless. "It's kind of a long story."

Donna looked at the Doctor, motioning for him to sit down before he went running off again. "Trust me, we've got all the time in the world."


	4. Three

**Three**

**A One Way Ticket**

Night had settled like a dark purple blanket over the forest, everything silent apart from the odd screech of a nocturnal creature moving about in the bowels of the woods. The sky was smattered with bright white stars, some of them shooting across the velvety sky, chasing each other in an endless game of tag. There was even the bold blue shape of a comet passing overhead, its tail trailing behind it like a flicker of fire. Donna couldn't help but stare at the atmosphere – the sheer beauty of it was amazing. She had to admit, the place gave her the creeps, but it also filled her with such child-like excitement. The feeling of being surrounded by such wonderful nature gave her goose bumps. Or was that just the icy wind?

The Doctor was fiddling with some contraption of Jack's, carefully passing the sonic screwdriver over it several times. "This is a _very _good gravity cushion…" He announced, obviously having difficulty with something. "…that explains why you barely have a bruise to your name."

Jack sniggered. "These things don't come cheap. Luckily for me it wasn't one of the things that decided to disappear all of a sudden during the crash."

"Yeah that's strange that is…" He began, flames from the small fire they had made reflecting off the lens of his glasses. "…it didn't seem to happen to the TARDIS. She just started to get really sick and not work properly – at least I now know that's what she was fighting against."

"Hm, my computer told me it was a bug. It reversed the thing in the end…thankfully." He quickly added.

"And that Time Agent device of yours, where did that go?" The Doctor asked, motioning to his left wrist, which was unusually bare. "I would have thought that that was one of the main things you would have kept."

Jack gazed down at what would have been the device's traditional pride of place. He suddenly found it hard to swallow. "You could say that…I lost it."

The Doctor looked at him uneasily, wondering if that was the best thing to point out. But surely it was just a piece of equipment?

Donna suddenly changed the subject. "So then Jack, you've been meaning to tell us. What's up with this…Torchwood place then?"

It took him a couple of seconds to drag his eyes off his wrist. "Oh, right." He seemed quite uncomfortable for once. All the smiles and jokes he'd been cracking since she'd met him were gone in a flash. "It's an institute, and I was sort of kicked out of all that a long time ago."

The Doctor looked at him in surprise. "You? I thought you were in charge of number Three at Cardiff?"

"I _was_," Jack corrected, staring into the dancing flames of the fire. "It was five years ago now, or 2468 if you want the details."

"Please do tell the details." The Doctor enthused, eyes still plugged into whatever it was he was doing with the Gravity Cushion. He did glance up for a second though, looking for something.

"What?" Jack asked, completely confused.

"The light may be poor but I can see a few grey hairs forming you know."

For a moment Jack seemed quite worried, touching the side of his head like he expected there to be a giant spider sitting there waiting for him. "Hm, I must check that out some time…anyway, the day I was kicked out was probably one of the most horrific days of my life…"

_It hadn't been easy. I'd just had to crawl on hands and knees through an entire two miles of red hot steel piping, and I'm telling you, when I came out of there I must have looked like a Kentucky Fried Chicken. The piping led out into a strange corridor, the walls lined with a sticky pink substance, not far off candyfloss. It didn't take me long to realise I'd just stuck my head into where it wasn't wanted – again. _

_Lucky me, I'd just hit the jackpot on the fleet's nursery, and boy was I in trouble if I didn't move along quick enough. There were hundreds of egg-sacs coiled in amongst the pink webbing, each one the size of a football and a disgustingly pale white. So pale in fact, I could see the unborn creatures squirming around inside. They were ready, but I didn't know if I was. I ran to the only door at the far end of the corridor, dismayed to find it jammed open to the point that I couldn't even fit my hand through. Thanks a bunch Jude, typical of a rookie to get it wrong!_

_I really didn't have a lot of time to waste – the eggs were going to hatch at any moment, and I could hear the parents screeching a bloodthirsty cry in the distance. Pretty soon I was going to be trapped with no hope for escape, and probably eaten alive in the process. That was it. I was tired of playing hide and go-seek. I grabbed the heavy assault gun slung over my back – which was now useless seeing as I'd used up all the ammunition trying to get this far – and forcefully wedged it in between the gap. _

_This gun was tough. It didn't dent or bend and break, instead the door feebly gave way as I put the entirety of my body weight into making the gap slightly bigger. After half a minute or so, the hole was just big enough for me to squeeze through. Unfortunately, that was when all hell broke loose. Not only could I get through, but so could the newly born larvae. Their ear-piercing squeals of succession rang through my ears as they leapt on me one by one, the world around me no more than dizzy spin. _

_I knew exactly what they were doing. They may be small little buggers, but that venom they were each carrying was enough to bring me down a notch. Through all the savage biting and frenzied attacks being bombarded my way, I grabbed my gun again and swung it like a metal club, the blow hitting and hopefully killing a few of the starving creatures. After a few swipes at them, I think they got the message. In shrill little squeaks, half of the marauding horde sank away and retreated to the safety of the nest. Only the brave – and incredibly stupid – bothered to stay and finish the fight._

_But there, why try and kill me when mummy and daddy could do it? I had barely got half way down the narrow passage before the adults turned up, seeming so much more bigger than they did when I could shoot them. I risked a quick glance out of the passage's window and to the landmass of Wales and England below, trying to squint past the blurred vision that damn venom had given me. The fighter ships were descending, the purple streams of laser cannons getting lost in amongst the towering flames erupting from the buildings below. The bug-eyed freaks were advancing slowly towards me, their jaws clicking with delight at the fact I could seemingly do nothing._

_Like hell I was I going to do nothing. I charged like an enraged bull through the pack of aliens, who were more than a little surprised to see their prey do something so reckless in the face of death. One of them lifted a phase gun, desperately firing orange bolts in my direction. Just as I turned the corner, two of the spiked rounds caught my arm. I tumbled through the shock and pain of having them bite into my flesh with merciless power. Luckily, I fell into the shattered remains of some sort of power room, the door shutting behind me and locking with a reassuring hiss._

_Immediately the creatures were at the door, scrabbling and shrieking with the fury of having to starve this long. I simply ignored them. My arm was throbbing, and as I glanced down to inspect the wound, it didn't seem to look much better either. The two bolts were like spiked glass, each one filled with an orange glowing liquid – which was going down rapidly by the second. Great, more venom. I pulled them both out, trying to get on with the job at hand and disregard the fact I was burnt, bitten, poisoned and probably going to pass out any minute now._

_I turned my attention to the centre of this shot up room, where a gigantic purple crystal was suspended above me, held into place by crackling blue energy. I could see it was weak, but I remembered the instructions – 'don't bring the ship down, just try and gain control'. Yeah, easier said than done. I checked my watch. It was already half past the hour – meaning the call from this 'Executive' was never going to come. Typical. I jumped up onto a maintenance gantry and stared out of the vast viewing window before me. Everything below was burning. The friendly Earth ships drifting silently in the cosmos were desecrated, the remainder of the crew either dead on board or retreating back to the planet._

_These aliens that had attacked with no warning were lethal – their numbers were insurmountable – and they were ruthless. Like robots, they would never give up. They wouldn't be happy until Earth was a burnt out cinder and no good for anything – their greed for pointless conquest sickened me. A black shadow started to creep into the corners of my eyes. I had to do something now, whether I got a call from some big-shot or not. Time was running out for the Earth – and for me. Wearily, I climbed up another flight of steps towards the top of this power generating crystal, searching for some way to shut the thing down for good. All of a sudden, the door to the room gave way. A large, circular dent was scored into the middle of the door as the aliens outside tried with all their might to get in._

_Now I had no choice whatsoever – this ship was coming down – I only hoped it would land in the ocean. In the corner of the gantry was a large generator box, a metal coil which was fizzing and sparking wired up to it. With the last of my strength, I smashed the box to pieces with my assault gun, getting a powerful shock or two in the process. The blue energy instantly faded, and soon after the crystal that was keeping the ship running cascaded to the floor, sending shrapnel buzzing like bullets through the air. Just in time too – the aliens had made short work of the door. They tumbled like an angry mob into the room, only to be met and destroyed by the thing they were trying to protect. _

_I knew the ship was falling. A distant yet heart-rending creak of contorting metal filled the air as the entire ship turned and plummeted to the earth below. My head was clouded with so many things – grief, fear, sickness and even in a small way, joy. I had ended this invasion once and for all. The mother ship was destroyed, and there was no way back for the scattered enemy forces. I had to grab onto the railing to make my way down the gantry. It was all a blur, tunnel vision impairing everything I did. In the end I just didn't care. I suddenly felt my skull connect with the hideously solid metal of the floor. _

_The last thing I heard was a voice close to my head, muffled yet clearly an important man speaking. "Get him out."_

* * *

_I woke what felt like a year and a half later. Mercifully, I wasn't on the alien ship anymore – instead I was locked in a dark room made up to be a makeshift ward. Despite the several beds around me, I was the only one here, dazzlingly blinded by a fierce, focused light. For a moment it seemed very funny. I thought I was trapped in some kind of cheap 1940's cop movie, but the notion soon faded when I remembered what had happened. Where did the ship land? How many were dead? The drowsy effects of the venom were still going strong, making these frightening thoughts send shivers of panic down my spine._

_I did my best to pull myself together and get a grip. If the worst had happened, I would be in serious trouble – no, more than that, I would be dead meat. Suddenly the heavy steel door was harshly unbolted with a thunderous clang. My heart skipped several beats. I must have looked terrified when a small, red faced man strode into the room, his three bodyguards shuffling along behind him. They too looked a little dishevelled, one of them stroking his gun like it was a frightened animal. For a second, the dwarfish man was stood there glaring at me with a grim face. Unexpectedly, he burst into a furious wrath, his eyeballs practically popping out of his head with rage. "I'm very sorry to wake you sunshine, but thanks to you I've got a lot of clearing up to do!" This outburst made me, and his bodyguards jump out of our skins. "Not only do I have the Executive of Torchwood on my ass every second, but unfortunately I have to deal with you too!"_

_I was quite surprised. "You…your not the Executive?"_

_At first he batted away the question, by the looks of it trying to calm himself down. I had to admit, he did seem to be on the edge of having a heart attack. _

"_Oh god no. He would never come down from London to grace the likes of you with his presence. He sent me instead – his personal assistant." He seemed quite pleased with this title, but soon looked disgusted with me again afterwards. "I've been sent to show you the extent of the damage caused by your little plan, and what to do about it next." _

_That was when my heart sank. I had caused a disaster after all, but I still couldn't help but think I had done the right thing. One of the bodyguards placed at the bottom of the bed a small little box, silver in colour, which at the push of a button projected a holographic screen into mid-air. At once the screen was filled with the horrific pictures of burning cities, one of them I recognised as Cardiff. Streets were churned up with the smoking debris of the spaceship, buildings flattened to ashes and desperate people pushing about in large crowds to try and find aid. _

_Sure, I felt bad. But nothing in the universe could prepare me for what I was about to see next. Cracked and crunched under a huge chunk of the mother ship was the Roald Dahl Plass, the aging Millennium Centre in the background seeming untouched. Thick black smoke was masking most of the destruction, but I could still see jagged pieces of the once smooth paving – now nothing but a huge ugly heap of rock and cement. My heart was in my throat. "That's Torchwood."_

_The personal assistant seemed no more phased than he had been before, scratching his black beard with mild interest. "Yes, I know."_

"_Well did anyone get out alive?" The venom was finally wearing off, and I could suddenly feel my mind clear and my muscles regain their strength – the blood rushing to my head. _

"_No. From how it looks, I would say they are burnt to a cinder." Despite the shattered look on my face, he seemed to smile. "Now do you see? You were ordered by the Executive to gain control of the ship, not bring it down on the entirety of the South Coast of Wal-."_

"_Easier said than done!" This had come out without me really thinking. I was so angry, not only with this 'personal assistant' but also with myself. "They can't be dead, there must be someone?" _

_The man appeared to be quite taken aback for a second, having to straighten his tie and scratch his beard again. "So far, there is no one." He replied, his voice rattling with contained anger. _

_The bodyguards shuffled uneasily on the spot, not knowing whether to raise their guns at me or be sympathetic. _

"_I saved this planet. It was this or nothing." I knew exactly what was coming next, but I just had to say that first, not only for their benefit but also mine. Guilt and grief was stacked upon me like a tonne of bricks, and never before had I felt the back of my eyes burn so much. _

"_Now listen," The personal assistant said, trying not to get too annoyed again. "It is not my responsibility to decide whether you saved the world or not. It is my responsibility to tell you that you will no longer be in charge of the Torchwood Three, starting from this very moment. Three will now be considered null and void."_

_I recovered myself quickly, trying to ignore the weight on my mind. "So what happens apart from being sacked and completely dissed then?"_

"_The Executive has agreed that the death penalty will be useless against you…"_

"_Hm, clever him." I decided that this would be a good time to get a little sarcy._

"…_so we have all come to the conclusion that you will be immediately deported from Earth and sent to the outer colonies. Basically, you are hereby banished from the Earth Empire. That is all." He deactivated the holocam, picking it up and placing it in his pocket._

"_What? No prison? Is it just me or is the Executive getting more reasonable in his old age?"_

_The personal assistant and his bodyguards were heading for door, all too ready to leave. At the last moment he turned and smiled. "You can believe what you like, but it won't make a blind bit of difference. Have fun." And he left, slamming the door behind him._

_Oh yeah, I was dead meat all right. _

* * *

_This was my world now – living on the outer reaches of the galaxy and bound by a contract to never come back. I never did get to meet this 'Executive of Torchwood' bloke. I was immediately taken to the Refugee World, Khal-Hurun, to serve this everlasting sentence – to never step once within the border of the Earth Empire. It's funny though, I keep wondering what they'll do to me if I ever did return. It's not like they could shoot me on sight. Whatever it is, I don't think I'll hang around to find out. _

_I was sitting at the bottom of a small sand dune, staring out over the dispossessed of this part of the galaxy. Their homes were tents, their clothes were rags and their faces were pits of misery. I couldn't take it. I wasn't going to spend the rest of my very long life living in this dump. It was at that moment a large, dust ridden sign caught my eye. It was quite a way away, out of the reach of the vast camping ground. Surprisingly, the building was built out of rocks, which looked a damn sight better than the rest of the area. A small, Middle Eastern man was standing outside amongst the piles of rusted junk and abandoned engines, shushing away the children who dared to play outside his humble abode._

_Despite being worn, I could just make out the letters on the sign. 'TURIQ'S GREAT SHIP AND SHUTTLE EMPORIOUM!' _

_The rest was unreadable, but straight away I saw my ticket out of here. I didn't have much money at all; in fact they had only given me enough to just about survive, but surely this guy didn't get many customers. He couldn't be too picky about how much people were giving him. If anything, it seemed to be my only way out of here._

_I picked myself up off the floor, starting to jog in the direction of this Emporium – hoping and praying he would take such a small amount of cash. I was smiling all the way though. It's funny how life seems to take you round in circles. _

* * *

"Well, that is quite an adventure." The Doctor had abandoned the gravity cushion and was now sitting forward, head in hands and listening intently. "You did the right thing though."

Jack didn't look so sure. "You think?"

"Yes. The Sharndrix are like a virus. If they had overwhelmed the Earth any further, the planet would have been lost."

Donna nodded in agreement. "It may have killed a lot of people, but a lot more would have died otherwise."

"I know…but I still feel guilty about it." He leant back against the fuselage of his ship, staring up at the sky. "Torchwood had grown so much in that space of time…it was getting arrogant."

The Doctor snorted. "Huh, tell me about it…you did a good job setting it up again. It should have been _you_ in charge of it all."

Jack smiled. "I had a good four hundred odd years though."

The fire was slowly burning out, and Donna could feel the wind chilling her to the bone more than ever. "It must be midnight by now." She said, tiredness starting to creep into her eyes. Staying up late was her forte, but all the rushing about and excitement of the day had brought her to her knees. Sleep was welcome, despite the fact they were in the middle of a forest that gave her the jeepers creepers.

The Doctor was just about to say something when there came an almighty rumble from the sky. The horrible, screeching wail of failing engines filled the air, so loud Donna had to cover her ears with her hands to stop them from bursting with pain. Another crash? What was this place, some sort of out-of-space Bermuda Triangle? The sky was suddenly filled with the fiery glow of a deteriorating ship, quite small in size and plunging straight for the heart of the forest.

Jack looked at the Doctor, who was in two minds about going to help or not. "Anyone you know?"

All three of them watched as the ship burst into a ball of flames and exploded in amongst the many trees ahead.

"No," The Doctor finally replied, his face a picture of worry. "But whoever they are can't be in a good way right now. We should help if we can."

"What if there's a forest fire from that explosion?" Donna asked.

The Doctor licked his finger and held it up in the air. "We'll have to be quick then. The wind will be driving the fire away from us at the moment."

With no hesitation, all three of them sprinted off into the forest and towards the scene of destruction…again.

* * *

She was the only survivor. Her poor brothers and sisters…dead, and it hurt. She couldn't bear to look at them – burnt and mangled from this doomed trip of theirs, something she had said all along would eventually go wrong. But would they listen to their younger sibling? No. They had insisted they go on this short business trip to rid of their pushy uncle, who was adamant that they would take over his casino after he died, but that was in the past now. She was stuck on this frightful planet, completely alone.

She pulled herself out of the blazing wreckage, grumbling at the series of bruises and burns she had acquired in the process. Maybe she would be eaten by some savage creature? She could only wish. Depressed and dejected, she sat on a rock and completely ignored the fact flames were dancing perilously close to her skin. The fire had reached the edge of the forest and spread surprisingly quickly through the wood and bracken – something that dominated this planet's surface, she had noticed. Her thoughts dark, not even the sound of approaching footsteps could deter her from her sullen state.

If they had come to kill her, then so be it. If they had come to help, well, she wasn't sure what she would do to them. All her fight from earlier had gone in a flash. She just closed her eyes, embracing the scalding pain in her heart and waiting for the possible end…

But it never came…


	5. Four

**Four**

**It's Not Easy Being Green**

One thing that she really wished there was a lot less of was running. The Doctor and Jack were already well over the top of a steep incline, frantically shouting for her to keep up. Donna's legs were spent. The only thing that kept her jogging on was the dread of suddenly being faced with a wall of ferocious fire. She could smell it in the air, the smouldering trees and scorched vegetation – there was even the odd smell of fuel, probably from the space craft that had come crashing down moments ago. The Doctor and Jack were now completely out of sight. She was alone with the distant sound of crackling flames.

Sometimes, she thought, this was all just a little too much. Eventually Donna came to a halt, heart pounding so hard it felt like it would jump out of her chest. She was really going to have to do something about her fitness – next to the Doctor, who never seemed to stop, she felt seventy-five. The day that she could run circles around him would be a blessed day indeed. Or would it be cursed? Donna was just about to carry on once more when something caught her eye. It was a flicker of light, and for an alarming second she thought it was the fire. But it wasn't moving like fire. It didn't seem to curl and wave through the air, instead it was like a dead straight stream of light.

It wasn't the same colour either. It was a deep emerald green that stuck out like a sore thumb in the shadowy darkness. Stumbling a little with tiredness – and the fact she couldn't see the tree roots very well – Donna made her way cautiously towards the light. Maybe it was part of the ship that had broken off and got sent flying through the forest? After all, that explosion must have made something fall off. As she slowly got closer, the light seemed to pulse like some kind of alien heart, drawing her carefully in.

For some reason Donna felt pleased. The light didn't want to hurt her, it just wanted to be frien – oh what was she thinking? Light didn't want to be friends with anyone. Despite trying to pull herself back into reality, she couldn't bring herself to. Her eyes were captivated on this really _beautiful _light that almost spoke to her. It was telling her something but she couldn't make out the words. Everything she did was instinctual, and before she knew it she was bending down to the light like she was trying to coax a cat, her hand outstretched and readily willing to touch it.

And she did. For a few moments her world was filled with colour and excitement, this marvellous light showing her things the Doctor couldn't even show. She could hear the words as clear as day, telling her a story about her life – how boring it had actually been but how wonderful it had finally become. Tears of joy started to run down her face, and she felt like a million dollars, but nearly every dream turns sour. This time there were no pictures of happiness and peace, just a dark, deep abyss so long and wide it could gulp down the universe whole.

Donna tried to scream but found she couldn't even do that – it was so quick. She felt like she was drowning, her lungs slowly filling with water to the point that she couldn't breathe. Then it was silent, and she was swallowed in the sea.

* * *

The Doctor was stood there dumbstruck, staring warily at the only surviving creature. His legs wanted him to run away, but his mind forced them to stay firmly on the ground. The creature hadn't seemed to have noticed him yet – its head was bowed in defeat, that was until Jack came storming through the bracken, cursing as his leg caught a bramble-like plant.

"Ow! Damn thing…" He paused as the creature lifted its enormous head, sniffing the air they were both standing in. "Oh…dear…"

"I should kill you both, you do know that I hope?" The creature hissed at them in a posh female voice. She bowed her head again, scratching at her burnt arm with three extensive claws. "But I can't bring myself to. My poor brothers and sisters…dead…and its all your fault!"

Jack looked quite offended. "Hey! We've had our fair share of problems too you know." He quickly glanced at the spreading fire. "Typical of a Slitheen to blame others, it's never you who gets anything wron-."

"Um, I don't think that's helping at all." The Doctor interrupted.

"Oh, sorry."

The eight-foot Slitheen stood up, glaring at them with wide, black eyes. "Well? Are you going to kill me then? I'm assuming that's what you're here to do."

The Doctor frantically shook his head. "No, no, we're here to help. We saw your ship crash a few minutes ago. The same thing happened to us unfortunately."

"So, it wasn't you who attempted to bring down our ship?" She glanced around the crash site for a second, every so often inhaling some air as if to check for something. "Then who was it then? Our computers went haywire, things were disappearing…it got Hosca…evaporated him into atoms."

She sobbed, still tenderly touching the series of wounds she had acquired.

"Are you ok? And what's your name?" The Doctor asked in his kindest voice, not knowing whether he should approach the grieving creature or stay where he was.

"I'm Jorena Fel-Fotch Pasemeer-Providence Slitheen, and really, I'm fine." She sat down again on a scorched stone, trying her best to put a brave face on. "My life may be in tatters but still I go on."

"So, no hunting then?" Jack hopefully suggested. "No chasing us through the forest trying to take our heads for a glorious trophy?"

Jorena turned to face him, seeming quite outraged at the thought of it all. "Oh, no! I'm not like the rest of my savage, beastly family." She sighed. "They say that every family has its black sheep, and that goes for the Slitheen as well. My brothers and sisters and I were trying to escape from the criminal ways of the others and find some secluded world to settle down on, maybe even earn an honest living along the way."

The Doctor seemed quite taken aback. "Wow that's…different…from what I've seen of your family."

"Very different." Jack added. "And a bit of a relief."

For the first time since they met her, Jorena gave a little chuckle. "There's no need to worry about me. At the end of the day, I wouldn't hurt a fly."

That was when the conversation came to an end. Like a flying thunderbolt, something bulky and incredibly swift leaped out from the fire, sending dirt, stones and bits of plant flying everywhere.

It stopped a couple of metres away from them, stretching itself forwards as if trying to determine who they were. The creature was mechanical, pieces of metal plating bolted to its agile frame. Tiny mechanisms in its head whirred and clicked in turn, its one shining green eye circling around in its socket and casting light over the three people in front of it. In a flicker of magnificent speed, it tossed its head, pawing at the ground with one of its four hooves and making a strange clicking sound at the same time. Despite the tall, intimidating stance of the robot, the Doctor was wide eyed, staring at all the cogs and bits of strapped on equipment like he was a little boy in a toyshop.

Daringly, he stepped a few paces closer to it. The robot stared down at the man, the eye swivelling out of the socket and practically pressing up against his face.

"It's a centaur." The Doctor finally concluded, still not taking his eyes off the machine that intrigued him so much. He fleetingly looked at a bizarre gizmo attached to its slender arm. "And it has a transport beacon."

"What's that then?" Jorena asked, suddenly very nervous about this new intrusion. "Is it dangerous?"

The centaur started to move closer, each hoof cautiously being placed in front of the other.

"Well that depends…" The Doctor replied, backing off as it approached.

It raised its arm, reaching for the green, glowing beacon.

"On what?"

"Where it's taking us of course."

The centaur slammed the beacon, sending a pulse stream of bright light soaring over the Doctor's head and into the seared bark of a dead tree. Slowly, it was vaporised into atoms.

"Oh, so that's what happens!" The Doctor suddenly realised, scrambling out of the way of the centaur's marauding hooves.

Like lightening, Jack un-holstered his handgun and pounded countless bullets into the head and eye of the robot. It juddered and jolted for a few seconds, desperately making that frightening clicking noise and then fell limply to the ground – creating a thud so loud it could wake the dead.

Jorena had jumped out from her really bad hiding place – which was stupidly behind a rock so small it was below her knees – and grabbed both men by the collars. She pushed them ahead of her so hard they almost went tumbling down the hill. "We need to get out of here, and I mean now!"

Right behind her, they could now plainly see at least four green lights, circular in shape, getting bigger and bigger by the second.

The Doctor was already running, shoving Jack in the back so he would run faster. "It's called up its mates!"

"Yeah I can see that!" He looked back at the Doctor. "And I don't know if you've noticed, but where's Donna?"

His face fell.

* * *

Donna had recalled falling – falling so very far but never once coming into contact with any sort of ground. But she must of, because here she was now standing in the middle of some dark, empty space and feeling dreadfully lonely. She shuddered as her entire body felt numb and weak. How was she standing? She should have collapsed into a heap on the floor, but instead she was standing there stock still, eyes pointing forwards like she was in some sort of trance. Her legs wouldn't move, no matter how much her brain told them too. She felt like a tree rooted miles down into the ground.

"Hello?" She just about managed to call. The sound of her own voice resounding around this endless room surprised her for a moment, making her feel small and vulnerable. At first there was no reply, just the fading echo of her cry. Donna was about to shout into the darkness again, when she heard another voice. It was crackled, like it was coming from a bad phone line when all you could hear is a distant and quiet mumbling. Her heart soared. She wasn't alone after all! Maybe it was the Doctor? Or maybe it was this new guy called Jack? But the voice was a female, possibly slightly younger than herself.

If she was in the same situation as she was, she wasn't showing it. Her voice sounded confident, like she was used to this sort of thing. Donna called again. "Who is that?"

The voice replied, but Donna couldn't hear it clearly enough. "I can't hear you!"

No matter how many times she tried, Donna still couldn't make out the voice – yet how could the voice hear her? "Listen, we need to stay calm," Despite her good advice, Donna's voice was wavering with fear. "Someone will help us…my friend will…the Doctor…he always helps."

This time the voice was stronger, and she could just make out the shocked words. "_The WHO?"_

"The Doctor!" She yelled back, once more hopeful. "He will help!"

There was no reply. Instead there was a pinprick of light in the distance, so small she could barely notice it. It was opening up, getting wider and wider by the second until Donna felt like she was sitting in a cinema – and that the light was the screen. A sudden gust of wind picked up, so strong and forceful she felt like she would lose her footing and fall back into the nothingness. Absurdly, she didn't. The light blinded her, forcing her to close her eyes and watch the familiar pictures in her mind. It was all so memorable.

The next thing she knew, she was there in them.

* * *

The centaurs were swift – very swift. Even through the trees and down the hills, they still cut through at an incredible pace, swerving and jumping like they had done this for centuries. Maybe they had. In less than a minute they were already firing the beacons at them, clicking and cursing as every pulse missed and thumped into some poor tree. Jorena gave an annoyed hiss, slashing her gigantic claws at one that strayed too close. "These blasted things are so fast." The centaur she had struck fell heavily on a large rock, its head spinning off its shoulders and into the gloom. "Well…" She concluded. "That's one of the blighters dead and gone."

"Idea!" The Doctor shouted at the top of his lungs, banging his head with his hand as if punishing himself for not thinking of it before. "We can get back to the TARDIS, and I know it's quite a way away but it's the best hope we've got. We stay out here too long and we'll be taken somewhere we really don't want to be."

"And what if they take the TARDIS?" Jack asked, firing blindly over his shoulder with no avail.

"They can't. Shields are far too strong for a basic transport beacon like what they're carrying. They can try and try but at the end of the day-." He was very quickly cut off.

The ground fell from beneath his feet, and he found himself up to his neck in water – a river to be precise. Jorena and Jack fell in as well, spluttering with surprise at the sudden drop.

"Oh dear." Jorena gasped, struggling to keep her enormous head above the water. "I must confess that I'm not the greatest swimmer."

"Really?" The Doctor made no effort to fight against the gentle rapids, waving at the centaurs that were left behind. "I'm finding it rather relaxing. Just go with the flow and you'll be fine."

The mechanical centaurs uselessly fired their beacons at the three swimmers and stampeded in circles with frustration. Defeated, they galloped back into the gloom and shadows of the forest, calling to each other along the way.

Jack pulled himself up onto a bank on the opposite side of the river, helping the Doctor and Jorena out of their wet escape. "Is it just me, or do they really freak you out?"

"No, they're just horrible." Jorena said, trying to shake all of the water off her body like a dog. "Worse than my father if you ask me."

The Doctor was tapping his sonic screwdriver, a worried frown forming across his face. "It's not working. Must be clogged at the moment."

"Is that bad?" Jorena asked.

"Well, it means that we can't track the TARDIS down and hop inside." He gazed uncertainly around him, squinting past the overpowering darkness. "And that means that there's not much hope in finding Donna just yet."

The sound of thudding hoof beats echoed through the forest they had just left, the unusual clicking sound the centaurs made getting more and more irritated by the minute as they tried to find their way around the river without getting wet.

"We've got to keep moving though." The Doctor commanded, striding onwards through the forest and leaving the constant roar of the river behind.

The others happily obeyed, jogging to try and keep up. Soon they could hear nothing – just the hush of the woodland and the whistling wails of the strengthening wind. For half an hour they stumbled through the thickening bracken, occasionally getting bitten or stung by some rogue thorn or nettle. The forest seemed to grow thicker for a while, ungraceful branches stretching down from the higher reaches of the trees and blocking their paths.

Jorena was obviously not used to all this trekking. Her head was hung low and her long arms dragged across the ground, oblivious to the fact that her sharpened claws were ploughing up the bushes and weeds she groggily walked through. Not one of them talked once. The Doctor had kept checking his screwdriver, banging it with the palm of his hand and dolefully replacing it in his pocket afterwards. After wading through a murky, muddy marsh, a glint of moonlight penetrated the shadows of the trees and shone vibrantly on the surface of the filthy water. The bracken and tall reeds became thinner until there was none left at all, letting the moonlight spread its rays over the three trekkers.

Eventually even the trees came to a sudden halt, and stretched out before them as far as the eye could see was a plain, dominated by thin, spindly shoots of yellow grass.

"Well this is different." The Doctor said, who cringed at the disgusting squelching noise his shoes were making. Still, he couldn't help but smile at the change in scenery.

"Oh, finally!" Jorena cried, collapsing onto the beautifully soft grass. She let out a sigh. "I couldn't do that in that awful forest. Someone should come along and chop the whole lot of it down."

Jack nodded in agreement. "Yeah we could all do with that." He looked out into the horizon, watching the grass sway in the breeze. "What's that?" He pointed out to a small rise in the ground, where sitting on top of it was a tall pole – no, not just tall, soaring in fact. The whole thing stood what looked to be a mile high, held into position by four wires bolted into the ground. The top of it was lost in the swirling clouds that had suddenly gathered together. It was only just then that they all noticed the tiny droplets of rain on their skin – and the fact that the spectacular purple sky had gone.

"Its like some sort of transmitter…" The Doctor replied, starting to run off in the direction of it.

Jorena looked flabbergasted. "Does the man ever stop? Can't I take a little break?"

Jack shot her an understanding smile. "Er…no not really."

* * *

Donna was exhausted. She'd just had her entire life shown to her in the space of a few minutes, and all those images and feelings flashing through her mind had left her brain completely shattered. But something was worse than that – someone had been sifting through the memories. She had no idea what they were searching for, but her gut told her it wasn't good. After a few minutes of trying to pull herself back together, she realised with a crushing blow that she was still in this dark space, still numb and still unable to move.

Her long, deep sigh resonated around the void and disappeared in a matter of seconds. Where was the Doctor when you needed him? Maybe, she thought, he was never coming. Maybe she was trapped in this netherworld for the rest of her life, never to see him or any of her family again. All she had was this voice that floated towards her through the thick curtain of black. It was that woman again. Donna knew straight away it was the same person, and that they were calling for her to reply. "I'm here!" She cried feebly, still trying to recover from the overwhelming rush of memories pounding in her head.

The voice was muffled and faint, and the only word she could make out was, 'Doctor'.

"Do you know him?" Donna asked, realising she didn't really need to shout for this person to hear her.

A high, warbling voice with a computer's accent broke into the conversation, making her nearly jump out of her skin. "_Everyone here knows the Doctor, Donna Noble, and he is the centre of everything. He has seen more than anybody in the universe, and the universe is a very vast place."_

Donna was suddenly terrified. "Who are you?"

The computer just hummed along with a merry tune in its voice, ignoring Donna's question. _"There are so many people…" _It giggled. _"…and so many of them are rich in history and knowledge and facts, but none like this Doctor. He knows a lot of things – not everything, but a lot." _The voice paused for a second. _"I suspect, he even knows me."_

The computer almost sounded scared at this suggestion.

Donna plucked up her courage, challenging this invisible 'person'. "I said who are you?"

The computer giggled again, obviously enjoying itself a lot. _"I am the centre of the mechanism. I am the brain – and the Wordsmith." _

A second voice came from the left of Donna. "And he controls everything."


	6. Five

**Five**

**Silver Planet**

Yard by yard, they had all finally made it to the transmitter that soared to infinity and beyond. Despite the wild and uninhabited surroundings, it looked brand new. The polished, foreign metal shone with a brilliant glow that not even the storm above could dampen. It wasn't rusted or ruined from the rain that had been pouring down on it for god knows how long – it was just perfect. The silvery shine seemed to buzz for a second when an intensely dazzling fork of pink lightening dashed across the heavens and disappeared without a trace. Jorena shuddered and shook when a tremendous growl that made the earth quake beneath their feet followed shortly after.

"We don't get it _this _bad from where I come from." She quivered, wrapping her extremely long arms around her as the slight drizzle of rain turned into a fierce downpour. "I…I didn't think it could even get _this _bad."

Regardless of her constant whining and droning, the Doctor had been inspecting the transmitter, looking it up and down with what could have been fascination or confusion. It may even have even been both.

"So, it's a transmitter then?" Jack asked him, trying not to get too bothered by the rain. "What's it doing in the middle of a jungle?" He stared around him. "And where there seems to be no civilisation?"

"There could be civilisation…" He began, for some reason kneeling down in the sopping wet grass and digging into the mud with his bare fingers. "…I really hope there is somewhere…" Resignedly he got up and ran down to the bottom of the hill again, diving down into the spindly grass and frantically pulling up all the shoots he could lay his hands on, not really worrying about how wet or dirty he was getting in the process. Finally his scrabbling fingernails came into contact with the sloppy and stinking mud of the surface, so runny it could slip through your fingers.

Jack looked at him like he'd just gone off his rocker. "What…are you doing?"

The Doctor ignored him, concentrating on his seemingly mindless task of digging up the earth with his bare hands. "…there has to be somewhere…there _must _be…" His face suddenly contorted with pain as the end of his fingers struck something very hard through the slush. Immediately he shot them into his mouth, sucking them – mud an all.

"Er…" Jack was torn between recoiling in horror or snatching it out of his mouth. "…you do know you've just caught every disease this planet has going, right?"

"Hm?" The Doctor said in a preoccupied tone, turning to face the disgusted man with three of his fingers still in his mouth. "Oh, no I won't catch anything too bad. Might have a bit of a sour taste on my tongue but it'll wash away with a good swig of tea or water."

"Fine, but you might want to do something about the…mud-smile…you've got around your face."

"Ok then." He simply replied, wiping the rest of the sludge off with his sleeve. "But I have found something very interesting…and maybe slightly worrying."

"What's that then?"

The Doctor was shovelling more and more grime out of the way of what seemed to be some kind of ornate pattern. Surprisingly, it was the same shiny metal that the transmitter was forged from. All the dirt and filthy water didn't seem to touch it. It was like a new penny fresh from the mint – not a speck of dust to spoil the unexplainable enthralment you got from gazing at it. The Doctor kept digging further and further away from where he had started, the frown across his face getting more creased and restless by the minute.

The pattern webbed out into elaborate spirals, the silver glinting in the colourful lightening that still raged on above them. Tentatively, the Doctor gave it a knock. It was thick – there was no echo to be heard.

"I'm tearing up the planet." He declared, staring at the flowing lines of the metal.

"Well you can say that again," Jack replied, motioning with his arms at the gap in the ground that must have been a metre wide and long – yet only ten centimetres deep. "Go any further and what you'll end up with is a shallower version of the Grand Canyon!"

The Doctor stopped his frantic burrowing and looked at him, splatters of mud splotched all over his face. "No, I mean I really am tearing up the planet! This _is _the planet!"

Jack just seemed to be puzzled. "So…" He gave it a little more thought. "…we're standing on a big silver ball of amazingly sparkly metal that is covered with a billion

tonnes of mud, water and plants?"

"I guess so."

"So its artificial right? That means its been made by someone."

Suddenly, Jorena gave a loud, love struck giggle. Both turned to see the Slitheen quite a way away from the transmitter and staring at something at her feet. A stream of light poked out from above the grass, a deep, rich green in colour.

"Oh, well this makes a wonderful change." She laughed, holding her oversized hands together with absolute glee. "Nothing on this planet is as beautiful as this splendid light!"

For a comical moment it sounded like she was announcing the winning bloom at the Chelsea Flower Show.

The Doctor's two hearts sank to his feet when he realised what it was in front of her. Scrambling across the boggy ground – and slipping over in the mud at the same time – he yelled for her to stop and listen. She either didn't hear him or didn't care. Her head swung round to look at them both, an over-the-moon grin spread like melted butter across her baby-like face. "I can see my family, even Hosca – and here I was thinking that they were all dead." She gave a dreamy wave. "Stupid fool."

It was far too late. In a matter of heartbeats her claws connected with the pulsing light, and she was gone in a dazzling white flash.

Jorena's bloodcurdling scream was fortunately drowned out in the thunder.

* * *

Despite the overwhelming numbness in her body, Donna knew her mouth was open as wide as it could possibly go. "So…" She couldn't really find the words. Her mind was in an endless spin. "…you're alive then?"

The woman standing just metres away from her smiled, not really sure about this puzzling statement. She too seemed to be a bit dizzy and far away. "Um…yes I suppose I am. I don't think I ever died, did I?" Her eyes widened with shock at this thought. "Maybe there was an explosion blowing us all to bits when we least expected it!"

The Wordsmith tutted. "_Don't be stupid. You are both – should I say all – here for a reason._"

"And what's that then?" Donna asked, still not taking her eyes off the familiar – yet surely dead person who had magically appeared beside her.

"_You are here because of the Doctor, the greatest man to stride across the universe,_" He gave a little titter. "_And time. It's simply amazing, and so incredibly satisfying!_"

"Like I said Donna, he controls everything." She sighed. "He can drag us from anywhere you know. He's too powerful for his own good."

She almost sounded like she was telling him off.

"But…how do you know all that?" Donna exclaimed. "You-."

She was rudely cut off by the excited voice of the Wordsmith. "_We had a bit of a chat._" He giggled crazily for a second. "_Most amusing really. She has a mind so young, and so very confused – the thoughts and emotions spinning around her head are like wildfire. They are so fast and so difficult to douse – I got awfully distracted in there you know._"

The woman looked surprised. "That was you in my head?"

"_Oh yes, it didn't take long. There was hardly anybody in there worth blinking at that I haven't already got – or about to get._" There was an edge of menace in that psychotic voice of his that made Donna shudder. "_You proved quite useless really._"

The woman didn't anger or in any way get upset, she just looked fed up. "Then why don't you let me go? You could quite easily send me back to where I came from and forget about me if you think I'm that useless."

"_Don't you see? You are part of the puzzle – a greater story to come._" He seemed to marvel at what he was creating. "_You people in here are some of the luckiest people in the universe._"

"No we're not," Donna cried angrily, feeling like she could burst into infuriated tears any second now. "Not if we're stuck in here with an insane super-computer who wants to sieve through our memories any time he pleases. It's wrong."

The Wordsmith chuckled for a few moments. "_I don't mean that, I mean you are lucky because you know the Doctor._" There was a long pause. "_I wish I knew him as well as you do…he sounds fascinating – I could learn so much._"

Donna's face lit up with enlightenment, shock and horror all at the same time. As the realisation struck her, she turned to look at the woman who was currently having a heated argument with the computer. It all made sense now. _Why _hadn't she thought of something like this before?

"I'm sorry." Donna said. "It's all my fault…"

She looked at her like she was going mad. "What do you mean?"

"…I'm sorry for bringing you here Jenny."

* * *

The Doctor had his hand stretched out before him, still staring at the spot in which Jorena had been standing moments earlier. The transport beacon she had touched started to pulse more quickly as if strengthened by its latest meal. How many more had been through this gate to god knows where? The Doctor rose to his feet slowly, still not quite believing what he had just witnessed. She had been so happy, like she was under a spell, and now he had just lost two people that he needed to find – if he could.

Jack rubbed his temple, looking away from the emerald beam of light. "That thing is strange, and I can't look at it."

The Doctor looked at him and then at the light. "Why not? Jorena seemed pretty happy with it."

For the first time in ages he gazed uneasily at the radiant glow, every so often shaking his head to try and draw his eyes away. "I don't know…it feels so wrong…but a part of me likes it." He drew in a shaky breath. "It's talking…can't you hear it?"

The Doctor shook his head. "No, I can't. What's it saying?"

"Nice things, but I can't make it out." He took a step closer, staring intently at it as it thumped like a heart to draw him in.

Automatically the Doctor braced himself, not sure whether he was going to make a jump for it or not. His eyes didn't want to part from the beam for a second, and if they did he wasn't looking happy about it. The rain started to suddenly die down, the large drops slowly becoming lighter until there was nothing at all. Still Jack trudged on through the mud-mire this miserable weather had left, his hand held out to the light – even if it was out of his reach.

Like Jorena before him, he was so happy; his eyes lit up like the sun. The Doctor's hearts sank – and not just because every effort he made to haul him away was failing. Out of the edge of the forest to their right were the gangly figures of the centaurs, hidden in shadow yet so easily recognisable by the succession of clicks they were making. In unison, they stepped out onto the freedom of the plain and stampeded towards the hapless men with no place to run or hide. He had hoped they would never find a way around that river. In one last-ditch endeavour, the Doctor pulled on Jack's arm so hard it threw him face first into the mire with a splat.

Already, he knew the centaurs were too close. They would never make it back into the forest. If they were quick through the huddled collection of trees, they would be amazingly quicker on open grassland – even with the slippery mud beneath their hooves.

Jack feebly pulled himself out of the grime looking like he'd just crawled out of his own grave. "That was one heck of a brain storm." He mumbled, trying to smile and struggling to his feet wearily. His mud streaked face soon dropped like a stone when he saw three familiar figures sprinting straight for them.

Their hands hovered over the controls of the beacon each one was carrying, every mechanism in their brain visibly churning and trying to decide the best moment to fire. Through all of their undeterred ambition, the Doctor was desperately slamming his screwdriver several times, jamming it between the flowing patterns carved into the metal. "Hold them up!" He shouted over the thunder of the hoof beats.

Jack needn't have bothered. A portion of the metal lifted up with a soft hiss and slid away, a waft of sterile cold air hitting the Doctor in the face. "Well, this is interesting."

"_Oh, thank you, but this isn't the time to be throwing flattering comments at each other."_ A tall humanoid robot lifted itself out of the gap, holding three lumps of jagged, glowing metal in one huge hand. The centaurs came to a staggering halt, their eyes swivelling furiously in their sockets. Their plain faces may have been unreadable, but their stance showed a small amount of fear for once. All three of them took a surprised step back, clicking quiet apologies.

"_Now then,_" The robot said, lifting up the gadgets for them all to see. _"Do I have to use these again? Or can you leave us be?"_

A brave one at the back took a step closer, clicking at the robot in a livid tone.

"_Really?"_ The white robot looked between the two men with slight interest, its two blue eyes widening with obvious surprise. _"Well then, I think that I should personally escort these two lovely gentlemen to where they belong instead of leaving them in your incapable hands."_ He tittered for a second, for some reason finding this funny. The Doctor and Jack looked at each other for a moment, wondering whether this immaculately clean robot was actually helping them here or not.

Another centaur angered at this comment, getting ready to fire the beacon.

"_Oh, I don't think so."_ The robot chided, tossing one of the gadgets at the centaur. In less than a second it collapsed to the ground, twitching and convulsing on the spot. The other two backed off a few paces.

"That was clever." The Doctor smiled. "My sonic screwdriver could do that! If it wasn't clogged with river water that is."

"_You are very full of compliments, aren't you Doctor?"_ The robot beamed happily. He only had to look at the centaurs and they ran off into the woods, turning back every so often and giving him a load of backchat to contend with.

The robot tossed his head like a human would if they rolled their eyes. _"Children…"_ He complained. _"…they can be so rebellious sometimes – I have no idea what has gotten into them."_

"Their kids?" Jack said, wiping the mud off his face with nothing more than his equally as mucky hands.

"_No." _He giggled at this comment like it was some kind of joke. _"But they act like them. They are built for physical pursuits and mild combat, not intelligence or reasoning like I and my colleagues are."_

He stepped onto a metal platform that had suddenly appeared at the foot of the gap, motioning politely for the Doctor and Jack to join him. They both hesitantly did so. Immediately the platform descended down into a lift shaft that was decorated with the same silver spirals that was on the surface, and in an instant they had left the brightening sky of dawn behind.

The Doctor turned to look at this robotic saviour, who was stood there with his hands behind his back and waiting patiently. "Well, thank you very much for doing that. But listen, I know you must have a lot of work to do – escorting us around and what not…"

"_That I do Doctor, but please continue."_

"…I was wondering if you've seen or met anyone called Donna Noble, or maybe even a Jorena Fel-Fotch Pasemeer-Providence Slitheen? We lost them along the way."

The robot shook his head. _"That is not surprising. When you come here, you can expect to lose a friend or two. After all, the surface of this planet has become…dangerous…over the years."_

The lift came to a gentle halt, the doors in front of them opening with a strange, alien 'ding' sound.

"So have you seen them?"

The robot threw the two remaining lumps of glowing metal into the arms of another grateful robot similar to himself, except this one was shorter and had several appendages bolted onto his back and head. _"Well, I am sorry to tell you this…"_

For a sickening moment his stomach did an uncomfortable turn.

"…_but I have not seen or met these people."_

"Oh, well, I suppose no news is better than bad news." The Doctor quickly collected himself. "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"_I am the Librarian." _He said in his calm, smooth voice. _"Thank you for asking. Nobody has asked me that question in many years."_

Jack looked around the domed hall they had just entered, which was boarded with a spotlessly clean white plastic and humming with energy from the number of computer screens suspended around the walls. It looked like a futuristic hospital. With all this mud caked on him, he felt a little out of place. "So, where are we now?"

"_I'm sorry for not saying earlier – we are at the control centre of the planet, where we track down the ships that sometimes come crashing down on us."_

"Sometimes? It was like the Bermuda Triangle out there!" Jack shouted, grabbing the attention of a few working robots who stood and watched with curious interest. "There are people out there that have died. Why?" He demanded.

"_I cannot divulge this information for you Captain Jack Harkness, it would be detrimental to my status among my colleagues." _Just like that, he sauntered away to the edge of the room, where a small, beady-eyed robot was wired into some kind of system, its head swivelling around and around like a spinning top. Despite this manic display, he seemed to be sleeping. _"Come and see." _The Librarian tranquilly called.

The other robots that had stopped and stared grudgingly got on with their work, more than a little disappointed that the conversation had amounted to nothing.

Jack leaned in and whispered in the Doctor's ear before joining the Librarian at a complicated console. "I thought the centaurs were bad, but these guys are just creepy. Why can't they tell us anything?"

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders. "Orders from up above? Or in this case down below?"

"Yeah, and what is it with the names? How does he know us?"

The Librarian called again, this time with a hint of impatience in his voice. _"Observe – this is the map of the planet, and one of the only things I am allowed to show you at this time."_

"That's a lot of green." The Doctor commented, pointing at the several large clumps of forest and jungle that must have spread for thousands of square miles.

"_Yes, well, things have gotten out of hand lately. We send droids up once a year for a week to cut back the overgrowth." _He paused. _"Unfortunately most of them are swatted down by the ferocious Hooded Jackals – they only evolved two millennia ago. Making droids is complicated and parts are something of a rarity nowadays."_

The map suddenly contorted and zoomed into an area where there were no trees, just another grassland with odd rock formations scattered around the open plain – rocks that looked to be carved in the shape of proud people staring at the heavens.

The robot that had appeared to be sleeping stopped rotating its head and fixed its small eyes on the screen in front of it. It gave a little warble, which the Librarian regarded with interest. _"Hm, we've never had anything like this before." _

A second later, a purple shape blocked out the entire view of the map and came crashing down on top of the monuments, fire and debris scattering everywhere. The entire control centre rattled with the impact, the screens and lights flickering as the vast ship rolled helplessly across the torn up earth – the beautiful silver of the planet revealing itself to the morning sunlight.

The little robot warbled in an even higher pitch tone, fear crackling over every incomprehensible word he uttered.

The Librarian quickly turned on his heel and marched off in the direction of a narrow corridor, his calming blue eyes turning a nasty red. _"What does he think he's doing?"_ He mumbled to himself, completely unaware that the Doctor could hear him as clear as day.

Jack stared at the screen in horror. "I know who they are."

Through all the smoke and flames, there was a loud hiss that travelled so far it could faintly be heard in the control centre. No more than a moment later, the creatures poured out of the grounded ship like rats from a gutter – squealing with triumph at this planet they had found – and would conquer.


	7. Six

**Note: **Thank you for the reviews! Sorry that this one took a lot longer, I had writer's block and I had to do Shakespeare coursework, which is actually quite hard. Oh well, I'm there now so I hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Six**

**It Followed Me Home… **

The creatures had gathered together like a band of unruly warriors, all of them crawling and scuttling about in fury and revenge – hissing and spitting out the names of their enemies with hatred. As one, they vowed to destroy whoever it was who had brought down their glorious vessel – 'The Bloodblade' – and stopped them in their tracks to conquer that ugly planet known as 'Earth'. It had sounded such a disgusting place – alive with fleshy creatures of inner bone and no outer strength. One bite from the fangs of the horde could cripple their armies for good, consigning them to the deepest and darkest corners of hell for the ancestors to deal with.

But here they were, surrounded by something even worse than what they were heading to – nature. As one, they turned this unfamiliar word over and over in their minds, dissecting it and eventually ripping it apart. This _nature _as it was called would be shredded and torn to the ground. It was useless. As a race, why would they need such a weak and hideous environment when they could quite easily decimate the entire surface of this filthy planet and build strong and formidable fortresses in its place?

Screeching with pride at this new idea – and the fact that the Swarm-mind approved – the creatures pushed the thoughts of planet Earth to one side and concentrated on the journey ahead, to bring this place to its knees. The horde gave one last vicious cry before taking up arms and scrambling to a laceration in the planet's surface – something The Bloodblade had created for them. As one, they crawled into the depths of this silver planet.

As one, they would tear it apart.

* * *

Jenny's face had dropped to total uncertainty. "Huh?" Was all she could say to this ridiculous suggestion.

Donna rolled her eyes, exasperated. "This Wordsmith bloke-."

"_I do beg your pardon?" _The high-pitched voice wailed in outrage. _"I am an extremely powerful and intelligent construct – a Wordsmith 0.2 to be precise – designated ShiningWolfAlpha. I will not be called 'this Wordsmith bloke'! It is atrociously demeaning!" _If he had been human, he would have gone red in the face and been on the verge of tears right now, but instead there was that same edge of menace in his voice – so threatening you could cut the tension in the air with a spoon, yet alone a knife.

"Fine then!" Donna called up to him, maybe only slightly apologetic for what she had just said. "What I meant to say was 'Wordsmith 0.2' is searching through our memories, right?"

Jenny nodded, confusion still plainly written across her face.

"Well if he's doing that, he can see people in our memories that are connected to us – say, people we've met or who are significant in our lives…" A second revelation hit her right in the stomach. "…you'll go on forever…" She looked up above her, to the curtain of black where the Wordsmith was probably situated.

He simply chuckled.

"…you'll go on taking people from all over the universe, and even time, just to satisfy _your_ needs?"

A stunned presence hung in the atmosphere for a long time, the Wordsmith giggling away to himself psychotically.

Jenny was the first to pluck up the courage and speak. "What for? Do you like inflicting pain?"

He stopped his manic laughter and sighed. _"Do you really want me tell you the shorter version of a very long story?"_

They both nodded.

He cleared his throat, despite the fact he probably didn't have one, but as dramatic effects went this one was pretty good. _"I was built to serve – a computer designed to do nothing but make up stories and store them in my expansive memory. I became so important to the lives of those I served that they built me this planet to sit in – a temple to my power." _There was a long pause. _"But alas, they are dead now – wiped out by the fury of a plague so mighty they could do nothing but wait for the end." _For once, there was a hint of extremely lonely sadness in his voice.

"And you're on your own?" Donna asked, not knowing whether to be sympathetic or still hate this computer for what he was doing to them.

"_No. I have robotic constructs to keep me going – it's in their protocols, they have to keep me alive so that I can make stories. They can sense it though…" _His voice shuddered terribly, contorting into a deep rumble. _"…they can sense that I do not see them as company. They know what I do now, but they can't stop me from doing it. And you know what?"_

"What?" They both said in unison.

_"I'm glad…"_

That was when the entire void around them started to tremble like the gentle beginnings of an earthquake, the numbness washing over their bodies with more fury and strength than ever before.

The Wordsmith gave one last chortle. _"…because I can never be alone again."_

His voice was soon lost in the thunderous boom of something crashing up above them, the impact sending a tremor so powerful through the void that Donna and Jenny could hear the whole environment creak and collapse – whatever it was rumbling deafeningly as it slid over what sounded like the surface of the planet.

In a matter of seconds their dark world seemed to crumble around them, every little sense they had of what was going on snuffed out, and the echo of destruction no more than a distant whisper in their exhausted minds.

* * *

Alarms had sounded throughout the control centre, the dull booming noise sending every robot in the vicinity into an utter frenzy. In twos and threes they scampered around the room, tripping up over snaking wires and even themselves to try and locate the nearest source of help – all efforts, of course, in vain. Swimming his way through the very unprofessional sea of mechanical body parts, the Doctor grabbed a dumbstruck Jack and dragged him off in the direction of the Librarian, who was unfortunately making good time down the corridor. Wherever he was going, it had to be somewhere important, and the Doctor wasn't going to miss an opportunity like this.

Jack staggered along behind him, still in complete disbelief from what had appeared on the screen seconds earlier. "But…" His voice was almost lost in the hustle and bustle of the robots. "…I know who they are!"

"Yes I know!" The Doctor called back to him. "Now stop talking and get those feet moving!"

The Librarian had disappeared around the corner ahead, but not before turning quickly to see the Doctor and Jack pushing and shoving their way through the unorganised throng of robots. His red eyes had flashed, and in a second he had activated something attached to his perfectly rounded wrist.

Much to the Doctor's sheer disbelief, a blast door dropped down from the ceiling, just a few metres away from where the Librarian was standing. A moment later, his voice crackled over the intercom. _"Now come along people, we've done this procedure before. I do not want to see panicking among the ranks." _He was obviously addressing his colleagues. _"The Doctor and his friend will return to the control centre immediately to be escorted to safety by our security guards. There is no point in following me – these blast doors are deadlocked sealed, so any messing about with that sonic screwdriver of yours would be pointless."_

"Security guards?" Jack said, wishing he hadn't asked when there was a heavy and aggressive tap on his shoulder. He turned. "Oh dear."

Standing there were two of the centaurs, only slightly different – they were painted a dazzling silver and gold. 'SECURITY' was stamped right across their shiny chest in bold black letters. "YOU TWO WILL COME WITH US." One said in a very harsh robotic voice. "NOW." It promptly added, grabbing both of them by the shoulders and practically hauling them back in the direction of the control centre. The other one cut a gap through the mass of working robots, smacking them around the head if they didn't move quickly enough.

One angry construct waved his fist at them, a clump of sparking wires clutched in his hand. _"Excuse me!" _He complained, eyes fizzing with obvious frustration at the brashness of the security centaurs. _"But do you realise we are all trying to work very carefully here – one slight calibration error could doom the entirety of this planet!"_

The centaur turned his broad torso in the direction of this interference, leering over the poor little robot with overpowering authority. "ARE _YOU _QUESTIONING SECURITY MATTERS?"

"_Well, um…"_ It stuttered, trying to avoid the one pivoting eye that was pressed up against its face with terrifying menace. _"…no, not really, I was just saying that you need to be more careful…we're on red alert you know." _

The centaur waved this pathetic answer away with a sharp stab at the robot's chest. "RED ALERT _IS_ A SECURITY MATTER. WE WILL NOT SEE TECHNICIANS LIKE YOURSELF GET INVOLVED WITH SUCH HIGH SECURITY." It turned to its partner. "ESCORT THE PRISONERS TO DATA BAY 6. TAKE THEM TO THE WORDSMITH. I WILL DEAL WITH ANY PROBLEMS HERE."

It nodded, dragging the Doctor and Jack towards a second corridor, this one being much wider and a lot more makeshift. The walls were a dull, depressing metal colour instead of an immaculate white, tools were left strewn about the floor, and at one side were panels of that beautiful silver, the dust that had collected on them barely phasing their appearance.

The Doctor looked about him anxiously. "That was a mother ship that crashed."

"Yeah, and there's something oddly familiar about it." Jack shook his head as if trying to shake the thought away. "But it can't be the same one. It was destroyed five years ago."

The centaur watched their conversation carefully, its eye swivelling out of its socket every so often to get a better view of the men it was escorting.

"The Sharndrix ships all look the same – purple, curved and _very _big. Each one is like a hive, and carries an individual queen. Its one great big colony full of alien insects, and all they like to do is find new worlds to start again and keep going. _That's _why their like a virus."

"A very intelligent virus if you ask me." Jack added. He suddenly looked quite worried. "You don't think they'll try to take this one?"

There was a sudden jolt of crunching pain in their grasped shoulders, so agonizing that their knees buckled beneath them. The centaur's voice rang in their ears, its tight grip not loosening for a second. "THIS PLANET WILL NEVER BE TAKEN. WE HAVE SEEN BIGGER THREATS THAN A MOB OF BUGS – AND THE WORDSMITH HAS DEALT WITH EVERY SINGLE ONE."

The Doctor nodded, gritting his teeth against the burning pain. "Yes maybe, but has this Wordsmith ever dealt with _this _mob of bugs? Has he dealt with this _actual_ race?"

The centaur's eye gazed between them both, its grip relaxing a little. "I DO NOT RECALL ANY RECORDS IN THE LOG." It picked them both up off the dusty ground and quickly ushered them along the gloomy corridor, obviously trying to remain assertive after the dead end of a conversation it had just had with these wily creatures.

The centaur shook its head. Was that fear creeping into its mind? After all, it had been right – there were no traces of this barbaric race known as 'The Sharndrix' – they were something new, and new was a challenge. Its faith in the Wordsmith faltered for a second. "DO THESE CREATURES PRESENT A REAL THREAT TO SECURITY?"

Jack nodded. "Well, they almost tore apart Earth, and Earth is a big planet with a lot of defences."

"EARTH?" The centaur stopped in its tracks, forcing the Doctor and Jack to stand there and watch as the robot carefully thought out its next words. "WAS IT DESTROYED?"

"No." The Doctor replied. "It's a planet that will last till the very end. It will only die by the hands of the sun, and that's a very long way in the future."

The centaur continued walking, its golden hands still resting on the two men's shoulders. "IF EARTH SURVIVED, THEN WHY NOT US?" It demanded.

"Do you have the defences?" Jack asked, wary of the growing aggression in it's voice.

"WE HAVE ALL THE DEFENCES WE'LL EVER NEED, AND THE WORDSMITH WILL LEAD US INTO BATTLE – LIKE HE HAS DONE SO MANY TIMES BEFORE."

The centaur was very swiftly cut off of its glory rant as three orange bolts of spiked glass dug down deep into the chest plating of it's armour, some sort of fluid leaking out of the centaur's mechanisms. It turned its head to a divide in the wall, which by the look of it had been melted away by the blazing heat of a fire – a pool of luminous silver collecting on the floor. Hissing with overwhelming rage, an insect that towered over all three of them leapt at the centaur, biting and tearing into the gears and gyros with it's dripping fangs. The centaur's glowing eye flickered for a second, but the shock of the savage attack didn't last long.

In one fell swoop, the centaur tore the insect away from its torso, throwing the surprised creature against the corridor wall. Its neck gave a horrific crunch before it died in a pool of orange blood. The Doctor and Jack were instinctively backing off, but the sound of galloping hooves behind them made them both stop. Another golden centaur pushed them in the direction of a door, one of its hands folding into the arm and creating the gleaming barrel of a gun. Red laser bolts scorched out of the end, sending the horde of marauding insects that poured out of the gap back to where they came from.

"ALIEN THREAT HAS BREACHED THE PLANET. INITIATING CODE MAUVE AND ESCORTING PRISONERS TO SAFETY." The new centaur announced, opening the door whilst still shooting down the Sharndrix with everything it had. The Doctor and Jack leapt through the door as soon as it opened, only stopping to wait for the centaurs. They weren't coming. In under a minute the first one that had escorted them all this way collapsed from the amount of glass shards shredded throughout its system. The other one ignored their cries for it to hurry up and get through. It turned whilst getting bombarded by the brutal aliens. "GO TO THE DATA BAY. I WILL HOLD THEM UP."

The Doctor shook his head. "You'll be destroyed out there."

"EXACTLY." It answered with a faint trace of solemn in its robotic voice.

Moments later the door closed and locked, leaving the sights and sounds of the carnage wrought battle behind.

* * *

The Librarian was fuming. He had spent the past twenty minutes checking every terminal and data core, searching for damage after the Wordsmith had brought this alien warship down on their heads. What was he thinking? The Librarian had always had a deep respect for his superior – after all, he had been built to respect him – but this time he had gone a little too far. The mauve alert had sounded across the planet, and that meant the situation was bad, _very _bad. How could the Wordsmith be so careless? He had always been pulling people and aliens into his computer systems, enveloping them into his stories. Everyone knew _that_.

But recently something else had been going on, and the Librarian just couldn't believe it. That was when a thought struck him. Slowly and carefully, he lifted a data core out of its slot and held it up to the light. Split right down the centre of the glassy surface was a crack as thin as a hair, yet so significant. His metal heart turned. The people in there must be having one hell of a nightmare. Compelled by his software to help, he placed the core on a small platform and activated a switch, a ray of pure blue light erupting from the top.

Although masked slightly by the concussion of the tremors, the terrified and alarmed faces of people, cyborgs and aliens flashed and flickered in the blue rays. He picked one at random. Of course, this was just a test. He wasn't breaking the rules. As soon as he was done, he would put them back where they belong. Extracting a person wasn't usually easy, but with the Wordsmith in such an exhausted state, it would be easier. After a few expert taps on the console, the person he had picked appeared right in front of him.

She collapsed.

"_Oh dear," _The Librarian said as he helped the fatigued woman stand up. _"Maybe I should have chosen a life form which didn't require so much sleep. Honestly, I don't know how you humans get anything done."_

"That was…" She seemed equally as breathless. "…that was awful…terrifying…" She hurriedly snatched her arm away, giving the Librarian a look that would turn the devil if he ever showed his face. "…you work for him…get the others out of there!"

"_I'm sorry Donna Noble, but I can't do that." _He honestly sounded quite sympathetic. _"We are on mauve alert and I need to get work done quickly."_

"So?" She shouted, the Librarian not really phased by her aggressive attitude. "There were people I know in there, I'm sure of it, and you have the cheek to turn around and say you can't help them!"

"_Librarian?" _A distant voice called. It was weak but suspicious. _"What are you doing?"_

Donna suddenly recoiled with fear. "It's him. That Wordsmith, it's him."

The Librarian remained calm. _"I have to check the damage sir, just to see if any of the data cores are broken or not."_

He chuckled wearily. _"Does that mean you need to extract people? I need them you know…taking them out kills me."_ There was still a hint of shuddering in his voice, but it was nowhere near as bad as it was earlier. The sound of heavy footsteps echoed along the corridor ahead, making the floor tremble slightly. _"Damn this weak frame of mine!" _He cursed.

"_I could always have the technicians build you a new one sir, if you want?" _The Librarian tactfully countered, trying to compose his superior. Weak frame or not, he knew the Wordsmith could break him like a twig, and angering him was not on his current agenda.

"_Hm…" _He laughed eccentrically again. _"…I'll think about it. Right now, I want to see who you've taken out. My sensors are shattered at the moment."_

As the footsteps grew closer, Donna grew more and more fearful, her heart feeling like it was going to burst. She backed against the wall, dismayed to find the door next to her was securely locked.

There was no chance of going anywhere. She was caught in a one-way street – it was this or nothing. Boldly, she stepped forward, embracing the chilling sound of that psychotic giggle and thinking about the people still trapped in all these data cores. They would gladly swap their dark imprisonment for what she was facing now. Who wouldn't? What she saw creep around the corner of the doorway ahead made her gasp out loud, so much so the Librarian turned and stared at her with that blank face of his.

"_Donna," _He introduced with incredible calm. _"This is the true form of the Wordsmith."_

* * *

The creatures had made it. They had cut through the silver surface of this wretched planet and fought their way through the many complicated corridors, only being met by a gang of strange looking robots. To the Sharndrix, these unnatural beings were nothing. They may be strong and fast, but they were few in number, and no match for a fully-fledged horde – all of whom were bristling with weapons and possessing one key strength – numbers. No matter how many warriors fell, two more took his place, never tiring or giving up. Fighting was their _life_, and they loved every second like it was the last.

The Swarm-mind was pleased, but also restless. She had detected something within the planet, something that had more power than the Sharndrix race combined. It had made her shudder, but surrender was not a word she understood. The horde would take this sorry planet and turn it into a cinder, so not even the hardiest thing could crawl blackened from its pit to thwart their endless plans. This nature would make wonderful foundations for a colony, and everyone knew that foundations were buried and forgotten. Not even that power at the centre could stop them now, and it was only a matter of time before the world fell to their knees forever.

Earth was long forgotten.


	8. Seven

**Note: **Sorry once more about the lateness but school have bogged me down with mindless work again…tut, tut. But, here it is, finally. Hope you all enjoy, and Merry Christmas! By the way, I have updated Chapter Three. The differences are not completely apparent but if you catch them, it could be very intriguing…if it isn't intriguing then it's just me.

* * *

**Seven**

**The Gathering**

Donna had stayed valiantly where she was, a look of shock spread across her face no matter how hard she tried to suppress it. The Wordsmith was hunched just metres away from her, his one blue eye piercing her frightened gaze as he slowly tread in her direction. He was far too big for the low ceiling and narrow gangways of the room, so much so he had to steady himself with his extensive – yet feeble looking arms. Eventually, he came to a halt in front of Donna, bending over even further to the point that his face was inches away from hers. Compared to the perfect smoothness of the Librarian's, his was like a minefield, with wires snaking around every surface and scratches gouged deep into the metal. The only pure thing she could see was the glowing brightness of his eye.

He scratched his bumpy chin, like a human would if they were contemplating something. _"You are Donna Noble," _He said in that freakish singsong kind of voice, which seemed very out of character with his bulky body. _"And so far you are my favourite I think. Yes, I would agree with that. You are my favourite, because your story is not finished yet." _He clapped his stocky hands together a few times. _"Oh, I am so excited! When do you think he'll come?"_

"Who?" She asked, very confused and a little put off by his strange enthusiasm.

"_The Doctor of course! He is my ultimate prize."_

The Librarian stepped in between them. _"I can assure you sir, he is on his way. But with all due respect," _He had to brace himself a little then. _"We are on mauve alert, and this planet is under serious attack. Mauve means the creatures have breached the surface, and according to recent repor-."_

The Wordsmith's eye suddenly flashed with an almighty burst of smouldering crimson. He grabbed the Librarian between two of his fingers, lifting the petrified robot off the ground and shaking him in utter rage. _"The Warriorminds can deal with it! I have looked into the alien creature's heads – they are primitive and wretched! See to it they are rounded up and thrown into the nearest data bay." _He quickly glanced at Donna, who was looking on, more shaken than ever. _"And make sure the data cores are repaired. I hate not being able to see."_

With that he released his tight grip, the Librarian falling at Donna's feet so close she had to jump backwards to avoid getting hit by his flailing limbs.

The Wordsmith turned in the doorway, his eye still searing. _"Remember Librarian, I want the Doctor alive. You fail me on that mission and I'll make sure your parts go to the Cruncher!" _He left, his heavy footsteps resonating around the walls as he went.

Donna looked down piteously at the shrunken robot, his head bent over with obvious discontentment at that tormenting threat. "Um…are you ok? You fell rather far just then."

He gazed up at her. _"I feel so…strange inside…but I mustn't feel this way Donna Noble. If I do, then I am a reject, and my parts will go to the Cruncher anyway." _He stood up astoundingly easily, brushing the dust off his white plating. _"But yes, I am fine. Thank you for asking." _His soothing voice was a pleasant change from the psychotic one of the Wordsmith.

"Listen, I used to have a boss like yours a while back. I mean, he wasn't a gigantic robot with an evil obsession for capturing people, he was just horrible. If you did the slightest thing wrong he would yell in your face for half an hour about 'how they used to do it in his day', which was not only boring but also terrifying at the same time. I got a job somewhere else in the end."

"_Yes, well, it is not that easy for someone in my position to simply get a different job. I am bound to this planet until I eventually ware out and must be replaced." _He shook his head sadly. _"Unfortunately that replacement may never come, and the Wordsmith will have no one to look after him. He needs so much care nowadays."_

"But that's not a bad thing," Donna whispered, not sure whether the Wordsmith was still in earshot or gone completely. "He's pulling people from all over the universe, and _even_ time, just to satisfy his own needs. He said so himself, and now he has no purpose other than to keep going – he's got nobody to send these stories to anymore."

"_Yes, but-."_

"And he treats you like a glorified slave!" She said a bit louder. "Do you really like being thrown around like that?"

The Librarian was thinking, probably harder than he ever had in his long life. His face was blank, yet he clutched at his head as thoughts that should never have been racing around his mind came into light. _"I do…no, I DON'T like it." _His eyes flickered as power surged throughout his body, power that had always been there yet he never knew he had. _"The Wordsmith is…is…"_

Donna had looked on with awe and worry, watching as several sparks flew from his cranium. A minute must have gone by until he lifted his head from his hands, a look in his eyes so much stronger than before. He looked at Donna, whose face lit up with newfound hope.

"_The Wordsmith is insane." _He said firmly, ingraining the words permanently in his mind. _"And something must be done."_

* * *

The Doctor and Jack had simply stared at the locked door for several seconds, eventually turning around and heading down this new – and properly decorated – corridor.

"What's a Data Bay?" Jack suddenly asked, breaking the long silence. "And why the hell are we doing exactly what they want us to do?"

The Doctor shrugged his shoulders, brandishing his sonic screwdriver and testing it. It seemed to have finally recovered from their watery detour last night, the tip glowing with a reassuring blue. "It's better than doing nothing." He waved the sonic in front of him. "And to be honest, this place is baffling me beyond belief."

"Huh, really? That's unusual." Jack smirked. He shook his head, looking up at the high ceiling like god was there watching and listening to his every word. "I pray for day that everything will just be simple."

"Tell me about it." They both stopped at a door, which began to open with a soft chime, kind of like what you would hear in a posh hotel. "Its that Librarian though…he's a bit of a…what's the word?"

"Character?" Jack suggested.

"Yes!" The Doctor exclaimed, stepping through the open door. "There's something that he's hiding behind all those good manners, and its definitely…a…" His last words didn't make it out of his mouth. That was his problem, he thought to himself silently. His mind ran at a million miles an hour, so he skipped on to the next thing like the flick of a switch.

The room they had just stepped into was a vast, metal canyon, the walls bursting with mechanisms and cogs the size of houses, making it look like the bigger brother of Big Ben. Stretched across the entire width was a bridge, shimmering with blue rays of energy and the silver plating wrapped around it. On the other side was a door, similar to the one they had just passed through.

"Oh…" Jack seemed a little put out. "…an energy bridge…well there goes my prayer for simplicity!"

The Doctor peered out over the precipice that seemed to go on for all of eternity. A pool of charcoal black filled the entire space, making it impossible to guess how far it actually went down. To be honest, he really didn't want to know. "Well," He said. "My past experiences with energy bridges hasn't been that bad. I've heard some pretty hairy things about them before though…" The bridge seemed to glisten in agreement, and the Doctor had to promptly shake his head to make the image in his mind go away.

"Hairy?" Jack cried. "Hairy doesn't even cover what these things can do! Trust me, when Earth started testing them out…" He grimaced. "…well, it wasn't what I would call pretty."

The Doctor clapped his hands together, a determined grin set on his features. "Shall we cross then?"

"Cross?" Jack's face dropped.

"Yep." He nodded, stepping onto the blue energy. It seemed to mould around his feet, the plasma pulsing and contorting at every step he took. "It's not like we can go back anyway."

"Cross that?"

"Yep." The Doctor took another few steps. "I've scanned it, and I can assure you it's perfectly safe."

Jack was still stood there, rooted to the spot and staring uneasily at the dark abyss beneath the bridge.

"Oh, this is rich!" The Doctor chuckled loudly, almost losing balance with the hilarity of it all. "You mean to say you've faced down Daleks, fought off a horde of alien insects with your bare hands, but your afraid of heights?" He couldn't help but laugh at the unusually worried expression on his friend's face.

Jack shook his head, not taking his eyes off the cavern below. "No, no it's not the height…" He pointed at the glowing bridge. "…it's that."

The Doctor collected himself, rubbing the tears away from his eyes. "Look," He patted the sleek, silver rails that hovered impossibly at the edges of the bridge. "Its even got handrails, you can't fall off unless you do something stupid."

"Who says I'm going to do anything stupid?" Jack replied, gathering all his courage to place his left foot on the energy bridge whilst tapping it experimentally with his right one. "Hm…seems ok…" He admitted after a couple of seconds testing.

"See?" The Doctor said, striding casually onwards with his hands in his pockets, sort of like he was on holiday in the Bahamas. "I told you it was safe."

"Oh yeah, I remember the last time you told me something was safe – I almost got a Katana sword through my neck!" Jack reminded him, cautiously following on behind.

"You did?" The Doctor scratched his head. "Oh, well sorry for that, I never knew."

Just as Jack was about to open his mouth to reply, there was a loud thump at the door, like something large and heavy had fallen against it. Both of them spun round to see a jagged dent scored in the metal.

The knocks and scrabbling at the door became louder and louder, until it sounded like an entire army slashing their blades in fury. Without hesitation, the Doctor and Jack bolted across the bridge, all thoughts on safety and the abyss below banished by the deafening drumming on the door. The Doctor gulped. The exit on the other side of the bridge was so far away – even at the speed they were running it would take a good couple of minutes for them to reach it. He risked a quick glance back. A huge tear had appeared on the door, where the creatures had been savagely trying to reach them. He could see the insects through the gap – their jaws snapping and the infuriated mass of claws and limbs ripping away at the seemingly feeble metal.

With one last pained groan, it gave way. A torrent of hisses rose from the mob of aliens, and like fired bullets they gave chase on the two retreating men. Jack's gun was out again. He shot at them several times, but almost all of the shots went wild and pinged off the silver walls. The Sharndrix were fast, and in a matter of seconds were at their heels, salivating with hunger – and the fact a meal or two was in the offering.

"Doctor!" Jack yelled over the relentless hissing that rang in his ears.

The Doctor's head turned.

"When you get across, turn the bridge off!"

"What?"

"Just do it!"

In a flash, the Doctor leaped for the solidity of the metal platform, his screwdriver brandished. Jack had stopped. He fired his gun at the creatures, slowing down their assault. Like frenzied dogs, the wounds they had acquired from the biting bullets did nothing but distract them a little. They were not going to stop so easily. Seeing this, the Doctor slammed his sonic into the control panel, the wires fizzing and sparking with the abruptness of this command, but eventually the blue energy faded into nothingness.

Jack grabbed hold of the silver railing as the energy evaporated like water beneath his feet, one of the savage insects leaping at him in the panic to find some firm ground. It squealed in surprise as the brunt force of his boot pounded into its chest, sending the creature spiralling into the dark pit. Jack pulled his arm over the thick metal, trying to hold on after the attack. The others had gripped to the other railing, outraged at the fact that they were well and truly stuck.

For a few seconds, there was silence as everybody looked at each other, stunned by the turn of events.

"You ok?" The Doctor finally called across to a struggling Jack.

"Yeah not bad…" He puffed, trying to pull himself up onto the railing – and failing in the process. "…I don't want to sound over dramatic, but you go on without me. Those bugs won't get me from here."

They hissed at this remark.

"It's not the bugs I'm worried about." He motioned to the abyss. "Hold out as long as you can…I'll go and get help."

He turned to the door, hesitating a little when it opened. With one final look back and a sombre grin, he left.

Jack glanced at the Sharndrix opposite him, returning their baleful glare like he had done so many times before.

He could only hope that help came soon.

* * *

It had come to Donna as a surprise at how different he actually was. Beforehand, there had been an aura surrounding that flawless body of his, something friendly and serene, like the horrors of the universe wouldn't touch him. Now, the Librarian was behaving uncannily like…well…the Doctor. Hyper, always thinking and doing things that almost bordered on childlike enthusiasm.

He had 'clicked' his long, slender fingers – despite the fact it made no noise at all – and began typing away manically on what looked like a holographic keyboard. _"Hm…" _He contemplated loudly, and obviously to himself. _"…it seems my neural command chip has been shattered…shame." _He fleetingly looked at Donna, who seemed not only happy but a little bemused by his sudden change. _"I must thank you for that Donna…I had no idea that freedom could feel so good…but now I know."_

She stepped closer to the podium he was standing on. "So, what happened to you then?"

"_My creators placed a command chip in my brain to keep me subdued, so I would never question my superior – the Wordsmith – who is completely off his rocker if you don't mind me saying." _

"Well, I'll agree with you there."

"_Hm…it was a clever move, one that has kept me so quiet over the thousands of years. But their destruction made the Wordsmith insane, and ever since then, every robot has felt the touch of his disturbed mind…and it was wrong…yet so right. We had no choice but to help his evil craze." _This time he looked at her properly, his face blank. Nevertheless, she could see the relief and praise pouring out of him in buckets, and for a moment she felt like she had helped someone in dire need.

"_You were right…we have to stop this…we have to change the minds of every construct on the planet." _He stroked his rounded chin. _"There must be a revolution." _

"Isn't that…war?" Donna suddenly thought, her stomach turning at the idea of being caught up in something so brutal. In a revolution, there was always someone being burnt at the stake or assassinated.

"_Indeed, a war for the greater cause. It will free every poor being trapped in this forsaken world, which is what you wanted, yes?" _

"I…I suppose."

"_Well then, shall we begin?" _He turned back to his keyboard and madly bashed any button he could find. The scared faces of different people were projected above the data core in a fuzzy blue light. They looked ghost like, and were as still as a photograph.

Donna watched the familiar and unfamiliar faces with interest. "What do you mean by 'begin'?"

"_Begin helping, that's what I meant." _He tapped a shining red button, which looked absurdly like something out of a cartoon. A middle-aged man in a navy boiler suit magically appeared in front of the podium, shortly afterwards collapsing to the floor in an untidy heap.

"_Like so!" _The Librarian cheered with joy. He groaned when he saw the man sprawled out on the floor like he'd been whacked with a mallet. _"Oh dear, another human. Why do I even pick you people anyway? You ask so many questions and require a little too much sleep." _

Both him and Donna went to help the man up, who gazed groggily at them, yet still smiled. "Well that was funny…" He mumbled in a soft Welsh accent. "…it was like something out of a cheap movie…with this odd voice echoing through the room…or wherever I was."

As they let him rise unsteadily to his feet, his face slowly turned to one of terror. "But it was awful. The world around me was falling to bits, I could hear people calling out for help in all sorts of strange languages…" He suddenly looked quite angry. "…someone was laughing about it, and they sounded so happy. Bastard." He added lividly, wiping his clammy brow with a red handkerchief.

Donna shook her head. "I know, I was there, but that's not important right now. What's your name?"

"Jude, Jude Benson."

The Librarian was up on the podium again, flicking through more and more faces. _"There's something very wrong with the core. It won't let me extract certain people, their data is corrupt and damaged." _He pounded the side of his head with his hand, more than a little frustrated. _"I can't do anything about it."_

"Does that mean they're dead?" Donna asked, a lump forming in her throat.

"_No, just sleeping. They'll be none the wiser about what is going on."_

"Yeah, kind of like I am now." Jude said wearily, struggling to walk even with Donna holding onto his arm. "One thing I do want to know though, where's my ship?"

"Didn't it crash on the surface?" Donna answered, wishing she hadn't when the tall and bulky man practically fell over with shock.

"Crashed?" He steadied himself and looked about him wildly, as if he might spot the wreckage in the relatively small room. "I bloody well hope not! It's a hundred years old you know!"

The Librarian waved the angry comment away calmly. _"I can assure you Captain Benson, you're ship is perfectly secure in a data core, and can be extracted when it is safe enough to do so. Right now, we have a lethal alien race to repel and an insane super computer who has no idea how much of a mess he's in." _He seemed to look at them imploringly, his blue eyes motionless yet somehow desperate. _"Will you both help me?"_

They replied with a firm nod, the short speech enough to collect their focus.

"_Good." _He said, relieved. _"Now, we need as much help as we can get, but I'm afraid that help may be very limited." _His fingers whizzed over the buttons for a few seconds. _"Ah…"_

"Was that a good 'ah' or a bad one?" Donna asked.

"_Very, very good. We may have more company in a few minutes." _The Librarian jumped down off the podium, pulling a dazed and surprised Jude onto it. _"You see that dial? When that shines red, press it and it'll extract the person."_

He nodded, gazing at the keyboard in a mystified manner as if it was going to eat him if he touched the wrong thing.

The Librarian towed Donna to a central column in the centre of the room instead, a column that glowed with a subtle cobalt light. Seated around it in a circle were several more data cores, each one shining a brilliant silver and blue.

"_Now then Donna, we are going to check for damaged cores and extract as many people from them as possible. The Wordsmith foolishly brought down an alien invasion on our heads, and the impact probably damaged more cores."_

"What about the undamaged ones? Won't they be better?"

"_No. The Wordsmith can't see into the damaged ones as well as the ok ones. It'll take him a very long time to work out that there are people missing, and we can play that to our advantage." _He lifted one out, checking the glassy surface. _"Carry on with the next one, and if you see any cracks, hand it to me. The thinnest one still counts." _

Donna nodded, lifting out the surprisingly light cores and scanning the smooth surface. As she went round each one, she had the oddest sensation that she was in the TARDIS – running around and around the circular console as the turquoise glow pulsed like a heartbeat. All she needed to complete the picture was the Doctor…

The next core she lifted out roused her from her daydream. Split down the centre and veering off sharply to the left was a hairline crack, so thin and camouflaged into the shine that she had to squint to see it. "I've found one." She called over to the Librarian, who had just checked his last.

"_Excellent!" _He cried, snatching it from Donna's hands and staring at the crack. _"Hm…it's a little bit bigger than the last, so there's not much hope of getting that many people out, but it'll have to do." _He swiftly marched up to the podium, where Jude was still waiting with his finger hovering over the button. _"How is that coming along?"_

"Almost there…" The button suddenly flashed a bright crimson, and he pressed it.

Donna and Jude both had to jump back in surprise, as something that looked to be a fuzzy bear crossed with a Chinese demon appeared out of nowhere, a woman half his height standing next to him and patting one of his thick and furry arms with sympathy. "…and that is why I'll never trade at a Yuluxian bazaar again…" The beast sobbed in a gruff – and maybe slightly thick – voice, trying his best to wipe away the tears from his beady, amber eyes. It was then that they both realised where they were.

The Librarian was as pleased as punch, shaking them both by the hands. _"Two people! Who don't collapse! This is most unexpected…" _He cried with happiness, trying to retrieve his hand that had gotten lost in the gigantic paw of the fuzzy bear, who squeezed it a little too hard.

The creature eventually got the message, and released his iron grip. With one of his four boulder-like fists, he patted his broad and furry chest. "My name is Jarg." He introduced proudly. "That means 'rock'. And this is my newest best friend, Jenny. She's really nice."

"Am I?" She looked up at him hopefully, like she couldn't quite believe what he had just said. "Can I have that in writing?"

"Um…I can't write." He replied dejectedly.

"Oh."

"_Yes, ok!" _The Librarian said impatiently, pushing both of them back behind the podium with surprising ease. _"I have more to extract you know! Dear lord, it's like trying to run a circus around here!"_

As Jarg and Jenny fell in line with the others, Donna grabbed her by the shoulders, her face a picture of joy. "You're ok!" She said in complete disbelief, looking at her like a worried mother hen. "I heard you scream, and I thought you were hurt…or even dead!"

"No, I'm fine." Jenny assured, trying to calm her friend. "I woke up and found Jarg." She pointed to the furry hulk that towered over them, his four muscled arms crossed like a bouncer outside a club. For a moment it looked like he was trying to smile, but his devilish face made it look disconcertingly like an evil sneer. "He was crying."

"Was not!" Jarg protested loudly, shaking his head like an accused child. "I was sweating through my eyes, honest!"

"Um…" Donna shook her head back at him. "…I don't think that's possible, is it?"

"He's trying to sound tough." Jenny whispered in her ear, Donna nodding in agreement. "Anyway, where are we? One minute we're talking about plants and gases, then I'm waking up in that black space, and now I'm standing in a room with half a dozen people…" She looked at the Librarian, who was still searching through the damaged data core. "…and a robot."

"_Thank you for noticing." _He replied. _"At the moment, there is no need to know where you are. Things will be corrected shortly."_

"Corrected? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Jude retaliated, still a little heated by the fact he couldn't see his ship.

"_Just…corrected…there is no other way of explaining it." _

As he spoke, the door to the left of the podium began to unlock – the red glow turning to a soft blue as someone or something released it from the other side.

Everyone apart from the Librarian and Jarg took a couple of steps backwards.

"Didn't you say there was an alien invasion out there?" Donna asked the Librarian, who nodded his head.

"_There is no way one of those dreadful creatures could get this far. Their not exactly clever." _

The door chimed its usual greeting to whoever stepped through one, and in a matter of seconds the silver frame slid away. Everyone flinched, expecting the worst.

Instead, Donna found herself feeling over the moon.

* * *

He was well and truly helpless. Six of the insects were sat on the opposite beam several feet away, their claws clung tight to the metal frame. They were waiting, their jaws flexing and snapping with impatience at the fact that they couldn't reach him. They were hungry, and the saliva that dripped from their venomous fangs and fell into the fathomless pit below proved it. Jack tried with all his might to pull himself up onto the rail, so he could at least get a better grip and maybe reach his revolver. But every time he tried, his arms just got weaker and weaker to the point that they burned with the strain of trying to hold on.

The Sharndrix opposite him were also trapped, but by no means having any trouble balancing on the beam. For them, it was just a matter of waiting for one of their pals to activate the bridge again, so that they could leap to safety. Somehow, Jack knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on that long, and to be honest, falling into a dark abyss seemed a whole lot more inviting than being torn to shreds by starving insects. As if his thoughts had tempted fate, he suddenly felt his fingers slip away from the glistening silver, his arms so painful that it felt like they were going to be ripped off by the strain. He found himself kicking at the air, trying to find a foothold, despite there being nothing there but the blackness below.

The six insects craned their long, plated necks forward as they saw his hands lose their grip on the rail, either excited at the thought of him falling to his death or bitterly disappointed that the game of waiting was over. Still, they hissed their approval at the sight of him plummeting into the darkness below, just as they had anticipated. As Jack fell, he saw their greedy faces gradually grow smaller and smaller until they were tiny dots in the horizon, and pretty soon even the horizon became a tiny dot. The shadows were enveloping, wrapping him and the abyss in silent darkness. At least the Doctor had got across and to safety, he thought to himself. To him, that was all that mattered.

All he had to worry about now was when he hit the bottom, how the heck was he supposed to get back to the top?


	9. Eight

**Note: **So here we are, Chapter Eight, (or technically Chapter Nine if you count the Prologue as a chapter.) If that is true, then it is the milestone ten next! This is the longest chapter yet, so even more for you to read. Have fun!

* * *

**Eight**

**Jaws and Claws**

"I pummel you good!" Jarg had cried, charging forwards at the unforeseen visitor, who was all too shocked to see a fuzzy bear attacking him. Everyone watched in horror as Jarg snatched the spindly man off the ground with his clawed fists, squeezing and shaking him so hard that his face turned a lurid purple.

"Ow…" Was the only croaky word that wheezed out of his mouth as he was crushed like a grape.

"Doctor!" Donna shouted, rushing to his aid as Jenny tried to free him from Jarg's iron grip.

"Jarg!" She yelled at the infuriated creature, smacking one of his arms so hard that he gave a yelp of pain and looked at her sullenly. "Put him down! He's on our side."

With an obedient whimper, Jarg literally did drop the Doctor on the floor and shuffled off into a corner, rubbing the spot where Jenny had whacked him and whining like a scolded dog. The Doctor had slowly dragged himself to his feet with the help of Donna pulling him by his arm. Dazed and confused, he gazed around the room for a few moments, taking in all the old and new faces with something between confusion and surprise, like he hadn't expected any of them to be standing before him right now.

To be honest, he didn't know who to look at first.

"You!" He suddenly cried, waving his finger at a blubbering Jarg. He only stopped when he noticed the soppy and apologetic expression on his face. "You…you have given me one hell of a bruise, I must say." The Doctor rubbed his sides, grimacing at the stings of pain that shot up his chest and arms. "And my suits all crumpled! Do you have any idea how long that takes to iron?"

Jarg very carefully stepped forward, his hands pressed together remorsefully. "Um…sorry Doctor man. I was only trying to protect new friends." He pointed to Jenny in particular.

The Doctor spun round to face her, the look on his face even more confused and bedazzled than before. "And you!" Now he was just getting overwhelmed. "Your alive!"

Jenny rolled her eyes, clearly exasperated. "I didn't die! How many times do I have to say that?"

Before the Doctor could even think of a suitable response, Donna had grabbed him urgently by the arm. "Yes, yes, he knows really. It's just been a long day that's all – heads a bit scrambled if you know what I mean." She practically dragged him halfway across the room, shoving an idle Jude out of the way before whispering as quietly as she could in his ear. "She's not dead yet. Trust me, I found that out earlier."

"Well if that's the case, what's she doing here?"

Despite the Doctor's perplexed expression, Donna grinned, punching him lightly on the arm. "I love it when I know more than you!" She raised her voice slightly. "The Wordsmith."

"_Doctor!" _A high-pitched voice chirped all-of-a-sudden, rousing them from their private chat. The Librarian swaggered up to him in a manner the Doctor had never seen in the robot before – gone was the etiquette and grace – instead he was walking like a teenager with an over-inflated ego.

Forcefully, the Librarian took his right hand and shook it vigorously. _"Doctor, I must say that it is an absolute pleasure to meet you this way." _His voice was edged with excitement, every syllable rattling manically as he spoke.

"Um…right…" He replied, looking the robot up and down like he was an unpredictable patient in a madhouse.

Donna simply chuckled at the clueless expression on his face.

"_I have found you're friend, Doctor, and may I say how incredibly helpful she is – we have been searching through the damaged data cores for people to help us on our little quest…" _He refused to let go of the Doctor's hand, still shaking it when they were deep in conversation. _"…and well, I say little, but really it is quite a large and daring operation." _

"Um…yes of course…you've changed a bit haven't you?"

"_Changed!" _The Librarian giggled merrily, like he was chitchatting with an age-old friend he hadn't seen in donkey's years. _"I have never felt so alive! Deary me I was a right old bore wasn't I? I am so sorry about that." _He finally let go of the Doctor's hand, beckoning for him to follow. _"It was lucky you came when you did. After all, if I had still been the same construct I would have sucked you away into one of those cruel devices."_

The Librarian stepped back up onto his podium, behaving like the lord of the land addressing his subjects. _"Now then Jenny and Jarg…hm, I like saying that…can you please move away from the extraction area…yes that's right, shuffle over that way a bit…thank you…"_ After a few taps on his keyboard, he turned to the Doctor. _"You may or may not be aware that we have a lunatic on the loose."_

"Oh, that's not very nice. He may have attacked me but I'm sure our friend Jarg meant well." He waved cheerily at the horned beast, who waved back, smiling his devilish grin.

"Um…he means the Wordsmith, Doctor." Donna corrected, glancing anxiously in Jarg's direction, still not sure whether he was scowling or just plain smiling. Thank goodness his IQ wasn't as powerful as his brute strength, she thought silently to herself.

"Ah yes!" The Doctor suddenly remembered, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "The mysterious Wordsmith! His name pops up everywhere in this place, yet I haven't seen height nor hair of him. Must be busy, you know, 'commanding' all you robots."

_"Oh, he does very little of that, Doctor."_ The Librarian said with undisguised resentment. _"His preferred method is to bring ships crashing down on us willy-nilly, and then he expects us to clean up after him! The nerve of it!"_ For a moment, his eyes sparkled an extraordinary white, only settling down and returning to their usual blue when he had finished his rant. He held his hand to his head, slightly bewildered by what had just happened. _"That felt…"_ There was long pause as he tried to find the right word.

"What?" The Doctor asked, the look in his eyes wide and enquiring.

_"…Simply wonderful! Shall we continue then?"_ Like nothing had ever happened, he slammed his fist on the red button, so much so that the entire keyboard sparked with the sheer impact. "_Oh dear, that's blown it."_ He giggled hysterically, as something tall, fat and green appeared right in front of everybody.

"…Yes, well it's all over n-…wait a minute…" The overweight and generally monstrous looking creature gazed around the room in disbelief, her petite and pointy-toothed mouth open in astonishment. "…Where did my brother go? And that scrawny little girl with the terrible attitude? Hm, she was most strange…"

_"Oh happy day!"_ The Librarian cried, rushing clumsily towards her with all the athleticism of a lame donkey, and pulled her earnestly by the arm. _"Our final volunteer!"_

Momentarily succumbed by the unexpected turn of events, she could do nothing but be led along by him. "Wait, a volunteer for what?" She suddenly noticed the Doctor amongst the sea of unfamiliar faces, and began to frantically shake off the strong, clasping hands of The Librarian. "Doctor! There you are, you bizarre little man!"

The Doctor simply gave one of his biggest, most infectious smiles. "Jorena! I kind of guessed that that is where you'd end up."

"Hang on a minute, you two have met before?" Donna said, and before anyone else could butt in she quickly corrected herself. "What am I saying? You've met everyone on this bleedin' planet, haven't you?"

He nodded in agreement. "It has all been rather…memorable."

"And you!" Jorena grabbed The Librarian by the shoulder, wrenching him towards her so forcibly that most of his joints creaked with the sudden jerk. "I want an explanation right away, you useless bag of bolts!"

Jude snorted. "Oh believe me love, I've tried. Don't expect much of an answer."

"Humph. I think I can shake a few out of him…" With her other claw, she poked him roughly on the chest. "My brother, Hosca, he died in the crash before the ship even hit the ground. Why, may I ask, is he in that dreadful black void of nothingness?"

The Librarian shook a little under the strict and unyielding hold of the Slitheen, the unwavering enthusiasm he had had earlier wiped clean and replaced with a certain amount of respect and fear. The whole room was staring at him with enquiring eyes – not even the Doctor bothered to intervene the interrogation, his gaze locked onto The Librarian in the desperate thirst for knowledge. To Donna, it was like the hysterical robot was suddenly back to normal, humbled by the question that had been suddenly thrown upon him.

_"Well…"_ He began hesitantly after a few moments silence. _"…it would seem that your brother isn't dead after all. Extraction devices cannot handle anything that doesn't have a consciousness."_ He pointed to the data core sitting majestically on its metal plinth. _"That's all you are in there…a living mind. The molecules are kept in a different part of the device. Even they are turned into strings of numbers."_

"Which is why you feel numb." Donna interrupted, all eyes suddenly turning to her. "You can only see yourself in your own body because that's what you expect to see. Its like a…trick or an illusion."

"And I'm guessing…" The Doctor continued for her, whipping out his glasses and jogging over to the data core to get a better look. "…that this Wordsmith fellah is behind it all. Am I right?"

Bravely, The Librarian slowly and carefully prised Jorena's claws away from his shoulder until he was free of her grasp. _"That is correct Doctor."_ He replied, brushing himself off like a dishevelled butler in a stately home. _"He has the power to do so, and believe me, he won't quit this cruel habit of his."_

"Oh, I think he will when he comes across me. Cos' by the looks of things," He pointed to the data core and several others docked in the room. "It's all gone a little too far."

For the first time since she'd been here, Donna gazed upwards, at where the ceiling opened up into a circular tunnel to allow the glowing central column to rise up along it. It seemed to go on forever, the radiance of its cobalt light ending in darkness somewhere high up in the planet. She shivered. Was it just her, or was there a cold wind rushing through the channel? Trying to ignore it, she turned to the Doctor. "But that's what he wants – you. He said that you're the centrepiece of the puzzle, or something like that anyway."

"And apparently, the rest of us are all part of it too." Jenny continued, an excited glint in her eye replacing the cloudiness of confusion from earlier. "We're sort of 'enhancing' your story."

"Nonsense." Jorena stated rather pompously, shaking her huge head with disagreement. "I'd never met the Doctor until a few hours ago. I can't be that important to his life."

"I'd never known him neither." Jarg chipped in, scratching his thick head dumbly.

"Or me." Jude said last of all.

_"No, no, no!"_ The Librarian squealed with undeniable frustration, slamming his hands into his head manically. All of a sudden, it was like an invisible switch had turned him back to being a raving loony. _"You people simply don't understand! The finest detail counts to him. Any person, past, present or future, is key! The Wordsmith is a perfectionist…not to mention a little strange."_

"Well then!" The Doctor concluded, looking up from his careful study of the data core and folding his specs away into an inside pocket. "There's no use standing around here chin-wagging about the bloke. We'll have to meet him!" A sudden thought struck him. "After I've helped my friend of course…who happens to be hanging over a deep dark pit of trouble right now…" He added under his breath.

"You're friends in untold danger, clinging on to life itself, whilst you're in here having a good chat and hugging big green aliens?" Jenny shook her head, simply amazed yet at the same time utterly disgusted. She suddenly noticed the offended look on Jorena's chubby features. "Oh, um, no offence."

The Slitheen sighed, defeated. "None taken dear, you get used to it after a while." She turned to the Doctor. "She's right though, you know. Where is your friend at this moment in time?"

"Where I came from." He pointed to the doorway at the other end of the room, its smoothly curved arch illuminated like the halo of an angel. "Through there, turn right and then straight on until you hit the chasm. If you fall over the edge, well…you've gone too far."

_"Your friend is dead, Doctor."_ Surprised by the blatant harshness of the remark, everyone spun round to face the static frame of The Librarian, frowning at him like this statement was some kind of sick, twisted joke. Nobody had noticed him slip off into the corner of the room, where he was hunched like a metal gargoyle over the many displays of a sprawling computer, reading the data silently to himself. _"Human, is he not?"_ He didn't wait for an answer. _"I've been tracking his life signature – it just went out."_

Revelling in the rare moment of stunned silence, The Librarian spun round to face his audience. _"Although, I must say, what a fascinating man…no wonder The Wordsmith took so much interest."_

"Is that Jack?" Donna asked the Doctor, catching the lump in her throat and swallowing it down hard.

He nodded sharply and several times, as if wanting to quickly move on. "Yes, but-."

"And he's dead?" She shook her head with disbelief, staring into space like she had been knocked senseless. "I hardly knew him…"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "I really, really, _really_ hate starting again! Listen, Donna," He grabbed the stricken woman by her shoulders, shepherding her towards the door. "If it really means that much to you, I'll prove that you're getting upset for nothing."

_"Nothing?"_ She exclaimed, her face strewn with horror. "He's just fallen god knows how far into the depths of this flippin' planet, and you're calling that nothing?"

_"Oh, I believe he is, Donna."_ The Librarian said calmly and without a hint of sorrow in his voice. _"But I have the strangest of feelings that there is more to this man than meets the eye. Doctor, I would strongly advise not going that way out. There seems to be a marauding army gathering on the other side."_

"Where are we supposed to go then? Through the walls?" The Doctor sarcastically replied, not really expecting a decent answer.

_"Well, um…yes actually."_ With the flick of a tiny, near invisible switch, the whole room juddered as the wall opposite to the door split open with a subtle hiss, like some kind of exotic metal fruit. As the several layered panels slid softly aside and folded in on themselves, they revealed a tall and wide domed elevator, shabby and used in appearance, yet plenty big enough for all of them to stand in comfortably.

"Oh." The Doctor said, slightly embarrassed. "Forget I even said that."

The Librarian crossed his arms, holding himself with an incredible amount of satisfaction and pride. _"I may be free, Doctor, but I still have control over the entirety of this planet."_ He reminded, and despite looking emotionless his eyes were aglow with what could have been a bold smile. _"Now then, shall we retrieve your friend?"_

* * *

It was agonizing work – and for centuries she had had to endure it with no hope of replacement parts. After all, she thought dryly, wincing as a hideous creak screamed from one of her rusty joints, who would look after her, The Cruncher? She was forgotten, just like the other poor constructs that were thrown carelessly down here and left to rust. The others on the levels above, who were lucky enough to still be considered 'worthy', regarded her as their primary fear – the machine that ended their existence. However much she was feared, she was still expected to work, to do her job like everyone else. It was kind of amusing – all the painstaking years that had grinded by, all of the times she'd trawled the endless underworld seeking out trash, she'd never once stopped. How could she? It was her directive. No matter how clogged her tracks were with discarded pieces of fellow robot, they kept on turning. And she had to be honest; she had begun to hate every second of the work. Crushing and crunching was beginning to feel wrong, and no matter how hard she tried to stifle these feelings, they returned with vengeance soon after. Why destroy so much, when you could create new things out of these fascinating items?

Her torch-like eyes continued – like they had for many millennia now – to scour the orange and brown rust-bucket of a floor, the illuminating beams of light occasionally catching a glint of metal. With one of her many bizarrely shaped and hooked claws, she reached instinctively out, snatching up the discarded objects and expertly flinging them into her gaping jaws. After a couple of well-placed chews, she gave a light chortle, her engines giving off an inharmonious grating noise and chucking out tufts of foul black smoke. She found it funny, how she had perfected everything in her mundane life to an art form – and the fact that she really didn't destroy much of her findings anymore. It was, after all, how she kept going. Nobody cared about what she did down here. She was left to her own devises. Although she felt incredibly guilty about it, she would occasionally invent things on the fly, to try and save some of the abandoned materials and create something completely new. What did her masters from long ago call it? Recycling? She couldn't quite remember. Her memory chips were vast yet old – memories were faded and sometimes not there at all.

As long as she kept moving, she just didn't care. For what must have been miles and miles, she trundled onwards in a zigzag pattern, parts of her wide and bulky frame still whining and creaking ominously as if they were going to shatter and collapse at any moment. They never did. She sometimes wondered what was actually holding her together. She had felt the tremors earlier that day, and remembered the floor shaking with such ferocity that she found herself wishing that she could hide inside herself. With the many winding passages and open spaces of the underworld, she could do nothing but back up against the juddering wall and wait for the terrifying event to finish. From time to time, she would feel slight trembles beneath her tracks. She would stare up into the darkness above, her torch beams getting lost in the curtain of black. Now and again, she thought that the ceiling would collapse, if there even were a ceiling. But there must be, she told herself. Everything comes to an end. Even her someday…

Still, the terror had passed, no matter how large it had been. Feeling safe once more, she carried on as usual, sifting through the remains of disembodied robots. The day couldn't get any more unusual, she thought as she crushed down an arm that would never come in handy. Just then, something glossy and polished caught her eye. It was so new looking that it felt untrue. With a sparkle of hope, she bounded forwards ungracefully, pushing her motors to their absolute limits. Readying her best claw, she carefully reached out for the strange looking object. It seemed to twitch slightly, but that didn't stop her. Pulling it up to her oil smeared face, she stared at the odd item with interest. It was like nothing she'd ever seen.

The thing was in the shape of a complete robot, yet a lot taller, and covered in shiny plates not far off metal. In between the crevices of its armour was the softest material she had ever seen in her hard world. So soft in fact, her claw pierced it like a knife through butter. Alarmed, she swung it high into the air and off the hook, where it landed with a loud and echoing clunk in front of her. For several seconds, she hovered over the soft thing, cursing to herself at how careless she had been. But there, how was she to know that it would be so weak? Tentatively, she touched it only slightly, expecting no reaction from this dead object. Instead, it suddenly sat bolt upright, screeching like a banshee in her face.

She recoiled. The thing was alive! Her joints and gears groaning more than ever, she pulled away as quickly as she could, which wasn't really very quick at all, trying to escape the creature that was more than likely going to attack her. It tried, its limbs groping out towards her frantically like a rabid dog, legs dragging uselessly along the ground behind it. For something using just its arms, the thing was fast. It grabbed her front fender, contorting the metal with its very claws and spitting feverishly with what was either pain or fury. Scared, she was about to hit the creature around the head, but before she could even attempt to raise her claw, there were several thunderous bangs coming from somewhere nearby. The thing suddenly stopped its frenzied attack, shuddering slightly as if taken by surprise.

The Cruncher stopped backing off, gazing uneasily at the creature as it fell groggily to the floor in front of her. It didn't get up again. Its thin tongue lolled lazily out of its mouth, a strange, orange substance surrounding its angular head.

"Is it dead?"

The unfamiliar and strange sounding voice made her jump to the point that her ravaged front fender fell away, the rusted metal landing with such a resonating clang that she couldn't help but cringe. Panicking, she shone her bright eyes into the gloom beyond, frantically scanning the horizon in a desperate bid to find the source of the voice – and the likely killer. Little did she know she wasn't looking in the right direction.

"Oh, sorry about that." A very different creature stepped up to the left of her and into the glow of the torchlight, everything about him so smooth and perfect, the rigid and ugly armour of the dead creature replaced with some sort of flimsy material on this one. Held in one of his hands was what looked to be a lump of jagged metal, the surface of it glistening like a dark pool of discarded oil. It made her shudder. "I didn't mean to scare you. Are you badly damaged?"

Although terrified of this new intrusion, she felt a certain degree of anger. The dead creature did try to rip her apart, but it was life! Something new that she had never seen before, and would give up her stinking existence to see any day. The killer was no better than the robots that worked up above – believing that everything was so easily dispensable. Huffily, and as bravely as possible, she quickly whisked her fender away from the stranger, rattling her mechanisms with disgust. A puff of black smoke blasted out of a piece of her rickety pipe work and hit him squarely in the face. Wow, she thought excitedly, she hadn't planned _that_, but it had worked well all the same.

He coughed, waving his hand in front of his face to try and dissipate the foul, sharp smell. "That's some system you've got there. It almost smelt like roses for a moment."

The Cruncher stopped her valiant, pride winning retreat. Roses. She had heard of these before. In a matter of seconds she dragged up several imagines in her shattered mind, pulling fragments together until she was finally shown the complete picture – a flower – the crimson blossom.

Was this sentient being really referencing her to…a flower?

* * *

Tired, dirty, and maybe slightly intoxicated, Jack had been left standing in the dark for at least a minute now, coughing up the foul engine smoke that had exploded right in his face. The bulky, garbage truck-like robot had looked like it could swallow him whole – its gaping jaws lined with hundreds of blades and grinders of all shapes and sizes, not to mention the racks and racks of claws and hooks bolted onto its sides. The thing could quite easily have been some horrendous war machine invented for an equally as horrendous war, but it did nothing violent or bloodthirsty whatsoever. Instead, it had trundled off into the shadows, its engines giving off the most jarring and harsh noises he had ever heard.

But then, as if the devastatingly obvious sarcastic comment he'd just made had struck a chord in its metal heart somewhere, it had suddenly stopped dead in its tracks. One lone headlight had swivelled round to bathe him its glow, like the robot itself was looking warily over its shoulder at him.

"Um…I meant that in a nice way of course…" Jack hurriedly corrected, worried as another loud clang told him that it had abandoned its fender. The machine trundled backwards again, its rusted and ruined parts squealing like never before as it turned itself around to face him with great difficulty. For a few seconds, every bit of its system seemed to groan as if exhausted from carrying its own weight. Slowly, a diabolical looking claw gently prised itself from its resting place and reached out for him, the pointed pincers snapping together cautiously like some timid woodland creature's tender footfalls.

* * *

She had to be very careful – these fleshy creatures that were made from no apparent metal were so fragile and delicate – but as far as she could tell, the only two she had ever met were very different. She had expected this one to destroy her like the other one had tried to, but instead he had holstered that slick, foreboding weapon of his and tried to flatter her with such a lovely comment. Nobody had ever done that before. All in all, she truly believed that this being had genuinely meant to save her existence from the other one who had so thoughtlessly meant to end it. How foolish she had been earlier.

Beaming with a sudden rush of delight that flowed like a ray of sunshine throughout her sluggish systems, The Cruncher quickly grabbed a fold of this strange material her new friend was wearing and stared at it intently, her eyes pivoting in circles with the sheer excitement of discovery. For a moment, he seemed quite taken aback, those quaint yet bright little eyes of his widening with surprise. What had he expected her to do? Eat him? She giggled at this silent joke, still unable to believe that all of this was actually happening. Her data chips must be malfunctioning, surely? How could one day of her very long life be this action-packed?

So lost in her overexcited thoughts and the amusement of twiddling with such an alien material, she did it again. One of her sharper hooks slipped, piercing the thin surface of it with ease. All of her integral systems sank. Remorsefully, she slowly unhooked it, expecting her friend to cry out in pain. After all, hadn't she damaged him? She backed off, waiting for something – anything, to show her that she was in the wrong. At first, there was nothing. He gazed down at the hole, inspecting the laceration with those nimble and dextrous hands he had. "You know," He began, making The Cruncher gawp at him in surprise at the fact that his voice was so calm. "I can't tell you how hard that's going to be to replace, and I don't do repair jobs." He considered this for a moment. "Unless its really valuable."

Valuable! Yes, she thought, extending her claws into the dark cavern of her mouth, she had plenty of things that were valuable. Whilst rummaging, her friend still chatted away, watching her all the time with mild interest. "But there, it's just a t-shirt after all…nothing to worry about really." He patted the rip, as if doing this would somehow magically make it all better. With a cheery smile, he continued. "So, getting off the subject of clothes, what's your name?"

Half-heartedly, she revved her huge engine to reply, sending smoke billowing into the air. "KRUN-CHUK."

He frowned. "Krun-chuk…right…well that's a nice name, I suppose. My name's Jack, if you're interested."

Ignoring him and the fact that he had gotten her name completely wrong, The Cruncher continued to fumble around inside her mechanisms until she suddenly came across exactly what she was looking for. Triumphantly, she pulled the glittering, rounded object out of its safe hiding place and held it up to the light of her eyes. It glowed magnificently, the silvery shine casting brilliant rays of light throughout the entire cavern until the ground, a wall and several abandoned robot parts were plainly visible in its white beams. Immediately, Jack gazed around the once pitch black space with a look of awe set on his face, but was quickly distracted by the object itself. "What is that thing?" He asked, nodding at the metallic disc.

Reluctantly, she drew it away from her lights, returning the cavern to the shadows, and slowly handed it over to her friend. After all, she owed it to him, no matter how hard it was to give up her most prized possession. Jack braced himself, expecting the large, metal object to be heavy. Instead, he found that it fell into his arms surprisingly gently, and to be no heavier than a large pillow. Straight away, he recognised the flawless silver and the spiralling patterns that flowed across its glistening surface like a snaking river. Four sharp edges jutted wildly out of the circular frame, each one with a hole in the centre, as if the object was meant to be bolted to the ground.

"I've seen this before." He stated, turning the thing over and over in his hands. "Its some kind of transport beacon, according to the Doctor. This one isn't working though."

Wasn't working? The Cruncher snatched it away from Jack, angrily bashing it on the floor in a desperate bid to get the thing going again. The only problem was, she didn't know what it was truly meant to do in the first place. With a loud, resonating sigh that rattled her entire body, she threw the beacon away behind her like it was a piece of useless junk.

"Um…Krun-chuk…"

_"KRUN-CHER."_ She corrected, making sure to pronounce it properly this time.

"Oh, sorry…that makes a whole lot more sense now…um, we could have used that to get the hell out of here." He paused, looking upwards at the veil of black, shaking his head with annoyance. "And find my complete dick of a friend who can't get help quick enough."

All this time, The Cruncher had been panicking to the point that her gears and grinders involuntarily shook, her very mechanisms within trembling with trepidation over these frightening words. Get out of here? But this was her home! This was the place that she had spent her entire existence living and working in. The thought of leaving now after all this time paralysed her, and in less than a second all of those dreams about seeing life and a different sort of world were kicked into touch.

After making a horrible, squealing shriek that pierced the thick, dull air of the cavern, she turned away from her friend with surprising speed, scrabbling about with her claws to try and find her shiny beacon again. And when she did, she thought, she would return to work and forget about these outlandish ideas. Jack however, wouldn't have any of it. He broke into a run, chasing the distressed robot who had suddenly become so much faster and fitter than earlier. "Hey!" He cried, leaping onto a narrow platform that ran along the side of her body, and held on tight. The places where he could hold on looked rusty, and he could only hope that they didn't break off anytime soon. "Will you please stop?"

Uncertainly, she did, applying the brakes so hard that he nearly fell off with the sudden jolt forwards.

"Thank you." He said after regaining his balance. Swiftly, he jumped down off the platform and ran around to her front to face her. In his calmest, coolest voice, he tried to explain everything. "Listen, I know that it sounds terrifying, but to be honest, its not much better for you down here. You can either live you're life in the shadows and eventually fall to bits, or you can come with me and face the world. It's not perfect up there, but it's beautiful all the same." He grinned his widest grin for her sake, and felt for a moment like he was the Doctor – rattling on about life and how great it was, restoring faith into people's souls – now he knew he was getting old. "So, are you going to come?"

The only reply was a contented sigh.


	10. Nine

**Note: **My god, sorry for this taking _soooo _long, but this year has been my busiest yet. I had my exams, then I had to try and get myself better and prepared for Sixth Form, and _now _I have lessons! So I'm very sorry about that. I love to do my writing and get it up on here as soon as possible, but I can't let it affect my grades. Oh, and I got a B in English! Booyah! Was hoping for an A but oh well, maybe in my A-Levels. Thank you for sticking with me so long, and I hope you've all had a great year so far. Its been a drag since there's been practically no Doctor Who, and Children of Earth was just plain scary! I'm having to tailor this story to the continuity as I go along, which has worked out for the best so far. Happy reading!

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* * *

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**Nine**

**The Way Back**

The Librarian, rather frustratingly, had taken up humming as the packed elevator slid slowly down into the planet's underworld. _"Humph…" _He suddenly grumbled, banging the control box like an impatient child. _"…I recall this thing being a lot faster the last time I used it. Mind you," _He gave a manic little titter. _"That was over a hundred years ago!"_

"A hundred years ago?" Jenny echoed, gazing around at the metal infrastructure uneasily, as if expecting it to fall to bits at any moment. "Are you sure its safe?"

"_No." _He replied bluntly, before bursting out in electrical laughter. _"Oh really, I am only joking dear. It gets serviced every month. We would hardly want perfectly useful robots to be crushed and flattened now, would we?"_

"Certainly not." The Doctor agreed. "Now, just out of curiosity, what is this deep dark chasm for? Security? To make the place look imposing?"

"_No." _The Librarian repeated, just as the elevator came to an abrupt halt with a sickening bump, the doors creaking open with a terrible squeal. _"Its where we chuck the crushed and flattened-once perfectly useful robots, of course."_

"What? Like some kind of bin?" Jarg suggested, rubbing his head through the strain of having to think so hard.

As they filed out onto the deck of a sturdy looking walkway that was littered with the broken bodies of robots, the Librarian took one of the thick brute's furry fists, shaking it with sarcastic congratulations. _"My friend, that may be one of the most clever and profound things you have ever said."_

"Uh!" He grunted, all of a sudden looking very pleased with himself. "Thank you Mr. Robot! Nobody's ever told me that before, even though I was the bestest counter in the whole bazaar. I could count to ten!" Out of the blue, he gave a loud sob that echoed around the walls of the canyon, his head in two of his hands as the other still shook the Librarian's. "I'm really gonna miss trading there…thanks to that stupid deceiving worm of a man!"

"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll find him one day." Jenny consoled, gently patting one of his shoulders. "I mean, by what you said, he sounds so…so _horrible_, a snivelling little coward who is really _ugly_."

Jarg shook his head, tears still rolling down his hairy cheeks. "Well, as humans go, he was kinda good looking." A sudden thought struck him. "Which is how he deceives you! He makes you think he's really nice with his perfect skin, and then he strikes with those good for nothing counterfeits! Wow, he really pulled the fur pelt over my eyes…"

"Which I suppose isn't that hard…" Jude muttered under his breath, getting a few scathing looks off the others who had heard it.

The only person not paying any attention to the distractions of chatter was the Doctor, who's head was hung over the edge of the working platform as sullen robots milled around him, throwing the broken constructs over the precipice and into the gloom. He simply ignored them, as if they were invisible, restless spirits roaming the dark walkways of the chasm like it was a graveyard. Donna had to admit, when the Doctor had said the word 'chasm', she had expected it to be a deep hole in the ground with a rickety bridge hanging over it. Now, she felt very stupid with that insignificant image that had planted itself in her mind. The real thing was beyond comprehension, and once again she found herself feeling very small as the infinite metal walls engulfed her, the relative silence of her surroundings screaming inside her head. Suddenly feeling insecure, she sidled up alongside the Doctor, who had now turned to looking upwards at the strip of glowing light in the distance. "Everything in this place is so…big." She said, practically whispering from the shock that this endless canyon had struck her with.

"Hm. The planet is bigger than the Earth, so some things are going to seem larger in comparison." He replied.

"This is like the Grand Canyon."

"Deeper. Much deeper. You can't hear the robots hit the bottom for a start."

Donna watched the lifeless bodies hurled into the darkness for a second, and momentarily felt sick. "Poor Jack. I know this sounds cruel but I'd rather not find him thank you very much. You don't know what state he's going to be in." She coughed, waving her hand in front of her face. "And what is that smell? It's like an old banger's just farted or something."

"_Oh, I know!" _The Librarian cried, squeezing in between both of them with such force he nearly knocked them for six. _"But my sensory chips tell me that that's not just any old banger, as you so jokingly put it. That is the smell of the most diabolical machine ever invented…" _He shivered. _"…The Cruncher. Mind you, next to The Wordsmith, I don't think she's that bad, apart from the crushing and grinding of course." _

"You told me about The Cruncher," Donna remembered. "And how you're parts would be given to her if you ended up like…well, like you are now…"

"_Shh!" _He placed his hand over her mouth worriedly, gazing around him like he was suddenly being watched. A few of the dustbin duty robots had looked up from their dismal chore of collecting the garbage, instantly curious at the hushed chatter. Thankfully, they moved on. As soon as they did so, the Librarian lowered his voice to a crackly whisper, his hand still pressed against Donna's lips. _"They don't know about my change yet, and are still programmed in to The Wordsmith. If they found out, I'd end up down there in the pit too. These depressing duds working here are the next best thing to The Cruncher. They long for excitement, and will desperately try to find a reason to destroy anyone." _

Donna swiped his hand away from her mouth. "What about us? Are we safe?"

"_Perfectly. After all, you are The Wordsmith's greatest prize." _Suddenly, the Librarian cried out in disbelief as a robot very similar to himself was heaved over the edge of the walkway's railings, half of it's face ripped off to reveal all the intricate workings inside. _"Planetary Technician 4427?"_ The Librarian peered over the edge of the precipice, his hands pressed to his immobile mouth with concern as he watched the partly destroyed robot spiral further and further into the gloom. _"Oh dear…"_ He said softly after a few moments thought. _"…he was on my friends list."_

"Yeah, I can see you're doing a great job at blending in." The Doctor muttered sarcastically under his breath, as the robot's electronic patterns for his eyes sank slowly and miserably with sadness. It was whilst glimpsing at the Librarian's gloomy state that a flash of silver light caught his eye, so bright and blinding that he could feel it pierce the surface of his eyeball and leave a fleeting burning sensation as the light suddenly went out. It had lasted several seconds, burning brilliantly through the smoky smog of the cavern despite being no more in size than a pinprick. Yet the glare had hurt…_why?_

Donna shook her head, evidently bothered by something. "What the hell was that?" She said, scanning the never-ending darkness to try and find the light once more. "It was like someone had just shoved a light bulb in my face."

"_One of The Cruncher's headlights maybe?" _The Librarian suggested, quickly recovering from his five-second-grief attack. _"They are very strong after all, and there are rumours of robots catching glimpses of her, which personally I don't believe seeing as she's at least a mile and half down."_

"No, I'm not so sure. It's that same silver glow…" The Doctor trailed off, his brow furrowed with complete focus and concentration as he stared into the abyss. "…I see it everywhere on this planet. On the surface under tonnes of mud and plant life, that transmitter, the walls…the place is plastered with it."

Donna pulled a confused face. "What?"

"And its perfect. Nothing in the world could make it look dirty or bad…like the dust doesn't even touch it…"

For several seconds, there was silence amongst the three of them as the Doctor contemplated these ideas to himself, his mind still shutting out the constant bickering and escalating arguments that were circulating among the others. Donna had learnt pretty quickly to wait for him to think through the situation and his crazy schemes, and for that 'frozen in time' look on his face to melt into an 'I've got a brilliant idea!' sort of face. But slowly, the horrible realisation hit her. It was never going to come. He seemed to gaze into the darkness, lost in his thoughts.

Just as Donna was going to break him free from his own little world, she suddenly stopped, her eyes deadlocked to one spot ahead of her and her mouth open ready to say something, despite the fact no words would dare come out. Now, Donna knew exactly what it was that had caught his attention. Everybody had fallen dead silent – even the dustbin duty robots paused in the middle of their tireless efforts to dispose of things, all of a sudden mesmerized by the chasm wall far opposite them. It was as if it was shifting, rolling like the waves of the sea during a terrifying storm, the smog masking most of it like a thick blanket of ocean fog.

Jenny, Jarg, Jorena and Jude shuffled forwards, gazing warily over their companion's shoulders with a look between confusion and alarm. Jude was the only one to shake his head, utterly disbelieving and suddenly very afraid. "It can't be…" He muttered, breathless like he had been inexplicably winded by a blow to the chest.

As if to confirm his suspicions, a terrible, blood-curdling screech echoed across the cavern with all the torment of a banshee and the spite of some twisted, unnatural beast. Even with her hands over her ears, the long and high-pitched wail burst through Donna's ear drums and rattled its way into her head, a sudden and uncontrollable feeling of dizziness and panic surging throughout her entire body.

When the noise had ceased, she didn't recover. Her heart pounded so hard that she thought it would shatter her ribcage. Her hands and jaw trembled with unexplainable fear. And the worst thing of all, her ears rang with the disorientating sensation of deafness. Panicked and off balance, she stumbled backwards into a retreating Jude, who roughly pushed her aside and into the safe arms of the Doctor. He was shouting something, she knew it; not directed at just her but everyone. The first few words she couldn't quite make out through lip reading, but the next ones were crystal clear. _Get back!_

Everyone seemed to comply, either in the same state as her or absolutely terrified. It was only when she was being pulled along by the Doctor that she saw the towering figure of Jarg stop and firmly stand his ground. His mouth opened up wide in what must have been a tremendous roar, his sharp yet perfect white teeth bared as he thumped at his chest like an enraged gorilla. With all the panic and bewilderment she was feeling right now, one thought suddenly crossed her racing mind – _he's mental. _Donna couldn't tell whether that thought had stayed in her head or poured out of her mouth in the height of her confusion, but in reality she didn't care, because reality itself was suddenly throwing something a million times worse at her.

Immediately, as if the sight of these horrific creatures was a strange and instant cure for the paralysed state they had screamed upon her, she felt the veil of panic lift from her mind, her legs regain their strength and the constant whistling in her ears throw her back to the brutal sounds of fighting. Now all she felt was a deep, helpless fear that rooted itself in her heart and stomach. These _grotesque _alien insects literally hurled themselves over the platform's railings, crying bloody murder as they leaped at an infuriated Jarg. He swung his tree-trunk arms at them, smashing them back to where they came from or gripping them as tight as a vice in his fists until they gave a hair-raising crack.

Their thick orange blood spilled everywhere. Jarg cried out with pain as the insects scraped away at his skin with their frenzied biting and clawing, leaving great gashes of black blood to mix with their own. Oddly, and rather disturbingly, it reminded Donna of running mascara. But no matter what they tried to do to him, Jarg simply wouldn't stop.

"_There's no going down now!"_ The Librarian yelled over the screeches and howls, quickly ducking as the broken body of an insect almost flew into him. _"Those creatures will simply follow us down, and for all we know, we'll be trapped and very dead."_ He shook his head. _"I'm sorry Doctor, you're friend is going to have to find his own way out. He's on his own." _

"Where to then?" The Doctor asked, grim but not protesting.

"_Over there. The powerhouses." _He thrust a finger in the direction of a dirty, partly bashed in door that stood a couple of hundred yards away in the shadows. _"If we want to get somewhere safe, that's the way to go." _

Without another word or a hint of hesitation, Donna found herself being towed along by the Doctor once more, dodging abandoned carts full to the brim with robotic parts as she tried to keep up with his amazing athletic ability. He literally did _never _tire.

At the same time, Jarg turned his head to quickly glance at his retreating friends. In the split second he had to look, the battered Yuluxian surprisingly saw many things. He saw the way to escape, he saw an awful lot of panicked running, but most of all he saw his best friend. Jenny _wanted _to run, he could see that as clear as day. But instead, when she was halfway there to safety, she slid to an uncertain halt, the lumbering figure of Jorena desperately tugging at her arm.

It obviously wasn't working, as the second time he looked back, Jenny was practically screaming at him. He couldn't for the life of him hear it. Compared to the ear-splitting shrieks and squeals of the ever-growing alien horde, her words were nothing more than a washed out whimper. Now, Jarg knew that he wasn't very clever. He knew that people had always muttered behind his back, poisoning his name with vile stories and lies that made his blood boil. But right now, in this frozen pocket of time, the look in her eyes said a thousand words more. A determined frown set on his blood streaked face, Jarg found strength he never knew he had, and using the combined power of four mighty fists, pounded the walkway he was standing on.

At first, there was nothing. The marauding insects still came as strong as ever, leaping on an exhausted Jarg until he was encased in a writhing mass of bodies. That was when Jenny felt the floor beneath her feet shudder – felt and heard the grinding groan echo in her ears as metal bent and broke before her. Now, it was only her, Jarg and the constant flow of insects on the failing platform. She watched, horrified, as one by one they scrabbled to join their fellow pack mates, salivating like starving wolves to assist in holding down a thrashing about Jarg. She could do nothing. For the first time in her short life, she felt truly helpless. Feet starting to slide, Jenny instinctively backed off, her legs drawing her away from her friend when in reality, she didn't want to go anywhere.

But she _had _to. She looked to her right – saw the gaping space of nothingness before her, the sheer endlessness of the dark calling to her like a siren's song. It was getting slowly bigger. The platform tipped, trying to throw her off balance as it juddered its way into the gloom, bowing like a servant to his master. Now, Jenny ran, more scared than she had ever been before. "Jarg!" She called again hopefully, surprised at the amount of fear trembling in her voice as she ran. "Just run!"

That was if he could, she thought. For all she knew, he could be lying dead beneath the barrage of bodies, being pecked away at by the alien creatures like a piece of road kill. This image in her mind upset her, and for a moment she felt her eyes burn with tears.

Just as she was in reach of the door, a crescendo of distressed squeals arose from behind her, followed by a pained yet victorious roar. As the Doctor heaved her through the misshapen doorway, she glanced back, both elated to see Jarg burst free from his insect prison, but also terrified at how far he had to go. By now, the platform was fit to fall, its metal supports twisted into all sorts of unimaginable shapes and its pitted surface starting to slide down into the chasm. But despite his numerous wounds Jarg picked himself up, and using his arms to aid his balance, made a beeline for the door.

The insects that tried to follow were either swept away into the chasm or gripping onto any available bit of metal, their claws feverishly scrabbling at the surface as they attempted to haul themselves closer to Jarg. Donna leaped up from the metal crate she had been recovering on to join the Doctor and Jenny, her head still spinning. She gave a shocked gasp, gob smacked at the state of the platform she had once been so casually standing on. Slowly, Donna shook her head, disbelieving at the sight of Jarg thundering his way towards them, his skin riddled in deep, gruesome gashes. "He's not gonna make it…" She mumbled, even more convinced when she saw what suddenly buzzed into view.

Two insects, so enormous and heavily armed that they made the Vespiform look like a cute little baby, flew above the collapsing platform, their wings nothing more than a hazy blur as they tried to catch up with a retreating Jarg.

"Uh oh." The Doctor said, his tone of voice not making Donna or Jenny feel any better at all. "They were just the foot soldiers…" He nodded in the direction of the newcomers, a worried frown forming across his face. "…and these guys are the cavalry."

* * *

No matter how many times Jack ran the idea through his head, he still couldn't see how a robot the size of three elephants would get out of this hell-hole without breaking apart on the first attempt. Like a child being pushed through the main gates on his first day of school, he had been shepherded by The Cruncher across the littered expanse of endless darkness, blindly stumbling over broken body parts even with the enlightening glow of her spotlights and careful guidance. Even so, the dilapidated robot had shown no signs of being lost. In fact, she seemed to know exactly where she was going through what Jack had likened to a horrific, junkyard maze – the terrible, twisted faces of abandoned constructs gazing lifelessly at him, the mechanism that operated their jaws cracked and hanging wide open, screaming, like the dry, hollow remains of an ancient and forgotten skull.

He shivered, the sweat he had gained from being in such a hot and dirty environment turning so suddenly cold. The haphazard heaps of crushed metal, all piled up in the masses, seemed to grow thick like a silent and dead jungle, the horrid, burnt smell of sulphur and oil lingering in the air. Like the canopies of tall, rainforest trees, the jagged arrangement of junk eventually began to arch out above them both to form a rather precarious shelter, compressed tightly together in a ramshackle pattern. The deep impressions of scrapes and dents littered the surface, evidence that The Cruncher's many claws and contraptions had had a significant part in its making. But _why_? This and many other questions were the things that were cluttering his crowded mind as he cautiously stepped his way through the ever-growing robot graveyard.

Jack had to rub his aching eyes, which were not only sore from the strain of having to look ahead into the dark, but also because he was sure he was hallucinating. He swore that just for a second, darting through the illumination of The Cruncher's headlights, were shadows. A stupid thing to be getting jumpy about, he knew, but his overwhelming feeling of exhaustion said otherwise. "Where are we?" He asked abruptly, heart automatically starting to pound as it pumped fresh adrenaline around his body – all in preparation for something that might not even be there. Nevertheless, Jack felt his hand instinctively reach into the inside of his jacket to clasp the reassuring warmth of his gun, only deciding against drawing it when he remembered The Cruncher's frightened reaction.

He gazed back at her nervously. Everything about her was suddenly so quiet, like they had just entered a church. Her usually noisy and sick sounding engines had died down to a fearful murmur, and her tracks trundled soundlessly over the littered expanse as if she were a ghost. From the state of her right now, Jack didn't have any doubts. She began to tremble ever so slightly again, and in her shakiest voice that rattled the floor, gave a simple reply. "K-K-K-TRANSPORT."

"Hm…sounds hopeful." He admitted, pushing away overhanging strips of metal like they were branches in an overgrown forest. As they got further and further into the gigantic wreckage, a hazy blue glow seemed to emanate from somewhere ahead, waving and glistening through the humid air like a desert mirage, and mostly concealed by a mountain of scrap.

An idea suddenly dawned on Jack – the stacked up junk heap, The Cruncher's terrified demeanour – this 'transport' as it was called was supposed to be hidden from sight, buried under tonnes of rubble so she could possibly forget of its existence. Now, as they drew ever closer to what must have been the device, she had no choice but to face it and accept the fact it was there.

"Frightened?" He asked, sounding half sincere and half preoccupied as he kicked odds and sods of robot pieces into the dark, all the while vigilantly scanning the bleak world around him.

No reply.

The only noises that seemed to greet his ears was the clinks of metal on metal as the objects he had kicked rattled their way across the floor, and the peculiar sound of muffled scratching, like rats scurrying through walls. Not for the first time, Jack had to look twice when he thought he saw something lurking in the gloom. But as always, it turned out to be nothing – a trick of the light or a strangely shaped lump of metal. By now, Jack and The Cruncher had skirted the mountain of rubbish and come face to face with the source of the light, which turned out to be a glowing platform, wide in diameter and plated with the glorious silver panels that sparkled brilliantly – with or without light to aid it.

Cautiously, but not _too _cautiously, Jack reached his hand into the shimmering light, making it ripple like a cool glass of water. Instead, it felt hot and heavy, like his hand was squirming its way through a wall of sticky toffee. He turned his head to right, watching The Cruncher doing the same with one of her most delicate claws, swirling the flexible limb around and around as if testing it. Jack felt the apprehension pouring out of her, and for an insane, almost _unreal_ moment, he thought he was standing alongside a human being – a new one, childlike and inexperienced with the world around it. Her rusted and ruined body deceived her for what she really was – a scared, confused kid in a weary old woman's clothes. _Boy_, he thought sadly, _did that take him back a few years_…

"So then!" He beamed, trying to sound as cheerful and confident as possible as he stepped onto the platform. Although, it was hard seeing as it felt like he was walking through a Mars bar. "Are we ready to leave this outer space dungeon behind? Because I do know what it feels like to be locked up inside one." He shook his head, all of a sudden very serious. "Its _nasty_…"

The Cruncher backed off a little, her claw retreating from the toffee filled beam of light. She wasn't shaking, which must have been a good thing, but instead, she sat there like a marooned ship – silent and stuck. Her eyes dashed from side to side nervously, looking at the platform and then at the tunnel of trash behind her, torn between the two.

Slowly, as if she was a boat slipping back into the sea to freedom, her tracks trundled forwards gently, rising up over the smooth edge of the silver platform and into the centre.

Jack shot her a supportive smile. "That's what I like to see! Some inner demons getting bashed!" The grin soon disappeared. For several seconds, nothing happened.

He looked around himself, trying to find some way of working what was either a fancy teleport or a simple lift. "Um…" He looked at The Cruncher expectantly, giving her one of those 'I don't know what the heck I'm supposed to be doing' stares.

Rolling her headlamps in what must have been a roll of the eyes, she extended her largest claw – that happened to look like it had been torn off the arm of a desecrated JCB – and banged one of the spiral patterns in front of her with it. Out of the blue – and quite literally in this case – a narrow silver tube erupted out of the platform's floor, as smooth as could be, and flickered into life in the form of a holographic screen. To Jack, the writing on it was unreadable. The language was an odd mixture of squiggles and shapes, all piled together to form one symbol for what must have been one word. It seemed familiar – almost tip of his tongue familiar – but he was tired and confused, so the recollection suddenly faded to the back of his mind. The Cruncher tapped the symbol with a small hook, moving onto a screen that was separated into two colours. One symbol rested on the green, whilst another slightly different symbol rested on the red. It was only a guess, but Jack got the impression that it quite possibly meant 'yes' and 'no'.

The Cruncher hesitated for a moment, her hook hovering over the control panel indecisively. With a final, determined rev of her engines, she pressed the green button, and instantaneously, the platform gave a lazy shudder as it was woken from its eternal slumber. After all, when was the last time it had done something like this? As they were lifted up off the ground, past the heaps of assorted junk and into the gaping darkness of the chasm, Jack _should _have felt relieved. He should have felt free, like he was going to at last walk somewhere that wasn't pitch black, didn't make him stumble over discarded pieces of robot, and didn't smell like the inside of a petrol tanker. But instead, in the short space of a second, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prick up, felt a humid puff of acrid breath, and the sudden shocking grasp of a hundred needle-like teeth.

In a matter of seconds he was on the ground, viciously elbowing whatever it was that had attacked him, even though he had a pretty good idea what. The Cruncher swung at his assailant with a devastatingly blunt mace, knocking the creature off the platform and into more of its friends. Jack fumbled for his gun, hands shaking and his head spinning. Blindly, he fired shots anywhere, everywhere, the pained shrieks of the creatures wailing on and on as the bullets met their mark. They were everywhere. He could see their claws scrabbling at the edges of the platform, slicing deep gouges in the silver.

Jack didn't even have time to reload. He felt razor sharp talons dig deep into his skin, and before he knew it, saw the snapping, venomous jaws of the Sharndrix close in.

* * *

Never before had Jude come into personal contact with a Sharndrix – the closest encounter being the other side of a computer screen. But even then, he still remembered the shiver that had run down his spine and the cold sweat that had formed on his brow when he saw them, their spiked mandibles clicking and clacking at the screen as if they could already smell his flesh. This time was different. This time, there was no great divide between him and their claws, and this time, he could quite easily die.

So he ran, terror consuming every part of him as he made his way up several flights of metal steps and left the others behind, his ears still ringing and his legs burning and weak from where he had forced himself to run. He just didn't care, completely numb from the pain. He pushed himself onwards, careering past containers and complex systems that vaguely resembled large engines. Beforehand, before this entire nightmare had dreamt itself into existence, Jude would have taken interest. Had he not been running for his life from something he wished he'd never see again, he would have sat there for hours wondering how it worked, why it worked, and how it could help him.

Jude skidded to a halt at a junction in the corridor, his eyes wildly gazing around him, petrified, like a little boy of five. Now look what he had to stoop to…running like a filthy coward…again. A spark of guilt ignited in his mind, memories flooding back like they never had before, so he stomped them out. _It was the past_, he kept telling himself, _something that could never hurt him now. _After all, everybody _died_. But every time he rehearsed this in his head, every time he tried so desperately to convince himself this was true, it simply came back to haunt him more than ever, to the point that his every dream was scarred and laden with its weight.

His only distraction had been the pleasures he had in his life – his ship, his home, the thrill of adventure…all of that felt so distant now, like a previous life he never remembered. Trying to focus on the few positives he had had – and would get back – Jude calmed himself down and took the corridor on the right, which unlike the other one was subtly illuminated with delicate looking wall sconces and panelled with such a magnificent silver that simply glancing at it made him feel better. For the first time since he was so rudely dragged here, he felt safer in this place, as if the soft lighting and the brilliant glow of the silver was some sort of relaxing sedative.

As he strolled further and further onwards, his hand sub-consciously reached out to touch the wall. He expected to feel nothing but a smooth metal beneath his fingertips, but instead was greeted with something smoother and softer than water itself, cold and refreshing against his warm, dirty hands. It seemed to pulse like a heartbeat, not fast and panicked but slow and sedated like his own. Jude was so absorbed in letting his hand play across its surface that he barely noticed a series of loud gunshots come from somewhere in the corridor. He must have stood there for almost five minutes, completely brainwashed, before the harsh and assertive voice of a very pissed off man broke him from his idle daydream.

His face could have fallen to the floor. He felt his heart lurch in his chest, sending waves of dread shooting across his body that left an aching pit of nausea in his stomach. Consciously, he touched his left wrist to feel the old, wrinkled leather like he had done so many times before. Once, it had been a monument to the guilt that crowded his mind, but slowly, as the years passed and that horrific day just got more and more distant, it became reassuring to have it with him – a 'get out of jail free' card. Now, he felt it turn cold and crinkle beneath his disbelieving grip, just like it had when he first took it.

The familiar voice got ever closer, his heavy boots resonating along the corridor's arched passages until it sounded like they were pounding inside Jude's head. Beads of sweat dripping down his face, he made a frenzied attempt to run back to where he came from, panic once again overriding every decision he made. It was a mistake. The thud of his feet on the floor was worse than he could ever imagine, and straight away he felt his follower hesitate – could see his cold eyes narrow and that oh-so familiar frown form across his features.

As if on cue, he heard the man call out to him, but it was lost in Jude's panic. He just kept running, his legs practically buckling beneath him with tiredness and fear. Before he knew it he was stumbling back through the junction and into an arrangement of containers, collapsing and inevitably smashing into them with tremendous force. They were obviously empty, as the surprisingly light metal crates fell around him like skittles, burying him up to his neck. Jude pushed them aside, all too ready to bolt again, but he needn't have bothered.

Standing before him in the mouth of the corridor, face painted a ghostly white with shock and his clothes ripped and peppered with large spots of blood, was the one man who had been at every dark turn in his nightmares…


	11. Ten

**Note: **Wow, I wrote this one quickly. It just came easily I suppose. This I think is the best chapter I have written yet. It tests the relationships between certain characters, and brings to light some truths...especially about Jack and Jude Benson...but I'm not telling, you'll have to read. Also, it mentions a name that will crop up in future stories of mine. (Hint: After this story is finished, look out for Bullet Proof Skin and AngelWing, but other than that I won't spill!) Enjoy!

* * *

**Ten**

**The Truth Hurts**

"Jack…" Jude spluttered, pretending like he had been taken completely by surprise. He staggered to his feet, forced a weak, unconvincing smile at the stunned man standing just metres away from him. "I…I can't believe you survived…"

At first, Jack said nothing. He gazed emptily at the floor space in front of Jude, either confused or upset. "No." He finally replied. "I can't believe you did…"

Jude tried to interject, wanted to plead his case, but his mouth just hung open uselessly when he heard Jack's next words.

"…When everyone else died…" Finally Jack looked into his eyes. They were pitiless, resentful, and_ cold_…but they burned into Jude's like a raging ball of fire, scorching his vision until he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes.

"I got lucky." He blurted out quickly, and without really thinking. _Is that how he thought of himself, lucky? When he abandoned his colleagues, his so called 'friends' to let them die? _

"Oh yeah?" Jack retorted. "And what about all the others then Jude? Did they get lucky?" His voice almost sounded hopeful, but it was hidden beneath an edge of anger and mistrust. "Jedrek, Sara, Kaine, _Ellie? _Did they get out alive?"

Suddenly, Jack's gaze shot down to Jude's left wrist, where he had been discreetly tugging at his grubby boiler suit's far too short sleeves. His constant fiddling didn't save him in any way. Face twisting with disbelief, Jack tried desperately to believe that the seemingly familiar device Jude was in possession of wasn't really there, that he was imagining the whole thing and would wake up any second now in his ship, floating through some far flung nebula, being none the wiser. But this wasn't a dream – it was a nightmare, and he found the golden question simply spill out of his dry mouth. "What's that?"

Jude stuttered and stammered, speechless at the fact that the game was up. Before he could even blink, hands were gripped like vices around his shirt collar, and he found himself being flung like a piece of dirty laundry to the equally as dirty floor. Oil and grime smeared up against his pale face, Jude didn't even bother to struggle as he felt the leather expertly pulled off his wrist, leaving the strange sensation of a cool breeze brushing against the place it had been for so very long. He waited anxiously in silence with Jack's mud-caked boot pressed firmly against his other cheek. It seemed to take an eternity before the size ten was lifted from his face, the rubber leaving a deep impression behind. Jude didn't hesitate for one second. He madly scrambled to his feet, taking in great gulps of air after having it knocked out of him, but not once attempting to run away.

He just couldn't – mesmerized by a look he had never seen before on Jack's face. He gazed at the device in his hands, almost as if he didn't seriously believe it was real, turning it over and over until he stopped, the realisation suddenly hitting him like a tonne of bricks. Carefully, he reached two of his fingers into a practically invisible slot on the underside of the device, slipping out what looked to be a crumpled piece of paper. Jude had never seen or noticed it before in his five years of having it wrapped conveniently around his wrist, and once again, the sickening feeling of guilt came crashing down around his ears. Jack just stood there, looking so much more tired than he had done before as he stared into space and twirled the paper in his fingers. At this point, Jude could make out no writing, just the blurred, wrinkled up figures of people standing huddled together, weathering the cold of a frayed Cardiff Bay. It was a photograph – an old fashioned, still one, where people simply smiled timelessly back at you. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tell who the people were, but he bet he could make a pretty good guess.

"So it's true." Jack said, voice strangled and his eyes red and puffy as he fought back tears. "Torchwood actually told the truth for once. They're dead." He replaced the picture, afterwards strapping the device to its rightful place. "And to think, I was blaming myself for killing them." He shook his head, angrily laughing at himself for his deluded idiocy. "No. I was the one who was trying to save them!" Knuckles bulging a bony white, he spun towards Jude, taking small yet intimidating steps as he closed in on the dumbstruck man. He shot him a disgusted look. "You should have heard London when they first told me about you. They couldn't have sung your sorry praises enough."

In a sudden flash of anger, Jude found himself being practically thrown out of the room, his body slamming into the wall behind him. He could have sworn that just for a second, creeping out warily from around the corner of the corridor, was a robot – and not a small one either – a huge one, rusted and almost _ancient _in appearance. But Jude had no time to worry about robots, because the next thing he knew, Jack had a chokehold around his neck…

…and he was hanging over the abyss.

* * *

Jenny was sure that Jarg was going to die. Watching him scuttle across the collapsing walkway like a terrified crab, every instinct in her mind told her that the odds against him were insurmountable, that he was lost to the horrors – and sometimes unfairness – of combat. At first, she might have accepted this as normal, but now, things felt…_different_…like she _should _have been out there with him now, doing everything in her power to keep him alive, to keep him going – even if it meant losing her own life as well. But instead she just stood there uselessly, her dad's hands resting gently on her shoulders, pointlessly holding her back from something she could never bring herself to do.

Maybe even he, 'the pacifist', saw no possible way of helping him, she thought tearfully, shaking off the Doctor's grip and turning away from the scenes ahead of her. She couldn't look; dare not look. But even then, she could hear everything – the horrifying shriek of the flying insects and the never-ending whir of their wings, Jarg's pained gasps as he fought for every ounce of air, the grinding screech of metal as it tore itself away from the very wall it was welded to…all just got louder and _louder_…until Jenny's head was fit to burst.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Donna fall back, hand over her mouth with shock, and the Doctor begin to shepherd them both backwards even further. That was when the definitive sound came – the final groan of the platform as its supports gave way, sending everything it was holding clattering down into the cavern below. Jenny closed her eyes for a moment, defeated. Jarg had sacrificed himself for them. For _her_. But no matter how brave or profound the gesture was, to her it felt empty. Still, the Doctor kept pushing her further into the cramped little storeroom, more urgently this time.

Grief mutating into anger, she found herself spinning on her heel to yell at him, just to tell him to leave her the hell alone, but those hurtful words never came out of her mouth, and suddenly she was so glad they didn't. At first she was confused, completely disbelieving at what her eyes were showing her. It felt like a creature that was pretending to be Jarg was leaping at that narrow doorway, all four arms flailing wildly and his feet kicking at thin air as the ground beneath him simply disappeared. One corner of Jenny's mouth lifted slightly in the form of a wavering smile, almost as if she was thrilled to see him alive and still within the grasp of staying that way, yet totally unsure of his audacious leap of faith at the same time. It was incredible. Everyone stared at him, slack jawed, as the monstrously huge Yuluxian soared effortlessly through the air like an eagle.

"Correction," Donna said, just before the whole room violently shuddered with the impact of Jarg's less than fashionable landing. "He is gonna make it."

And he did, latching onto the doorframe whilst viciously swiping at the alien insects at the same time. He just about managed to knock them back momentarily, but they were brutal – probably more brutal than their non-flying counterparts – hissing so furiously that they bore several rows of jagged, needle-like teeth that stretched its way right down their throats, and were firing something orange and glowing out of a gun that vaguely resembled a luminescent hedgehog. Jenny winced, her stomach lurching as she saw a few of the bullets – which seemed to be small glass shards – lodge themselves deep in the thick flesh of one of Jarg's arms and the others pepper the metal wall next to him.

Jarg hardly looked as if he had felt them at all, probably in too much pain to notice any more of it piling up on him as he squeezed his way through the narrow doorframe. Absolutely exhausted, but as quickly as he could, Jarg pulled at the warped and bent metal of the door, hauling it closed until its distorted shape would close no more. Unfortunately, that 'no more' turned out to be a wide gap in the top right-hand corner, where the door had folded in on itself and left an opening plenty big enough for something to stick its head through. Desperate to carry out their mindless killing, one of the insects tried frantically to claw its way inside, mandibles clicking feverishly as it tried to get a grip on Jarg.

Jenny glanced quickly at him as he put his full bodyweight against the door, every muscle he possessed visibly shaking with the painstaking effort of holding back the surprisingly strong insects. She knew what to do. It just came to her easily. Naturally. Every military protocol that was downloaded directly into her brain urged her onwards, sparked into life after being dormant for god knows how long. She turned to her dad, who was simply standing there, watching with something akin to fear. Was that even possible for him? For a moment she felt frustrated – furious even at his lack of action, but she suppressed it and instead looked right into his eyes, meaning each and every word she was about to say. "I'm sorry."

Baffled, the Doctor could only look on as Jenny reached down to the side of her right boot, smoothly unsheathing something long and shiny that made his two hearts skip a thousand beats. How could he not have noticed that before? Now that she had made everyone fully aware of it, it had struck him at how obvious it was to spot. He blinked numerous times, thinking for a moment that he was blind, and hoping against hope that what she was gripping tightly in her hand wasn't what he thought it was. Before he could even begin to pursue his knife-wielding daughter, she had taken several quick, purposeful steps towards the thrashing alien insect, her weapon raised and ready.

"Jenny!" He shouted, deep down knowing that he was already too late, that her stubborn mind had been made up before she had even apologised to him.

Which, of course, was incredibly thoughtful of her – she was really _thinking _about what was right and what was wrong – but the cold, metallic glint of that sleek knife sent his own stomach lurching up his throat, almost as if she had stabbed him there herself. He couldn't help it. Over the years it had become second nature, _his _instinct. Weapons had evolved into the demons that sent a chill down his spine, that woke him from the seemingly eternal nightmares that plagued the rare moments he had slept. Anybody he had seen actually carrying a weapon…well, he could never quite look at them in the same way again. The vivid and disturbing image of holding that revolver to Cobb's head drifted into his thoughts, recalling how he had deserved every ounce of having a bullet through his skull, but then how his entire hand had froze, his body slipping into a coma and the way the oxygen seemed to seep out of the room.

He gazed at Jenny now as she inched her way towards the creature, trying to avoid its razor-sharp claws, and remembered how heartbroken he had been at the sight of her lifeless body…and how she would _have_ to go back to that…it just seemed too cruel…

A bright spray of orange blood and a pained screech kicked him out of his thoughts, as Jenny's knife connected with the insect's neck, just between the cracks of its exoskeleton. Almost immediately it fell limp, hanging through the gap in the door like a ghastly ragdoll. On the other side, it went deathly quiet, like the entire world outside had frozen. For what seemed like forever, everybody stood in complete silence, listening to the rapid drumming of their hearts and gazing at each other, stunned at the past ten minutes of their lives. The first to make a sound – and consequently make everyone jump out of their own skins – was Jarg.

The Yuluxian slumped against the wall, holding one of his bloodied arms and whimpering pitifully like a dog. It was the glass shards buried in his skin. The orange glow that emanated from them grew less and less, until it had almost gone. The Doctor bent down next to him, inspecting the shards. It reminded him of something, something somebody had told him about a short while ago…ah! He reached out to yank the things from their place as quickly as he could, but Jarg shied away, covering them with one of his enormous paws.

"Don't do it!" He wailed, tears welling up in his frightened eyes. "Don't want more pain!"

"They're poisonous!" The Doctor replied, waving his hands about manically. "I need to take them out now before too much of the venom gets into your bloodstream."

He simply shook his large head, blubbering uncontrollably and evidently panicking at this idea.

"You're making it worse for him." Jenny scolded, kneeling down next to the Doctor, her shirt and arms splattered with alien blood. For a strange moment, she looked like a surgeon. "Jarg, you need to do as he says. It's going to hurt but it'll feel a lot better when the shrapnel is gone."

With one last sob and a reluctant nod, he lifted his paw, revealing the jagged shards. It was worse than Jenny had first thought – the three bullets had not only buried themselves into his arm, they had partially ripped their way across one of his deltoids, staining his velvety fur a grim black. She scanned her eyes over the rest of him, realising that that too didn't look much better. It was if someone had taken to him with a knife, slashing at his skin until it had left deep, nasty cuts all over his body. As this thought floated through her head, she suddenly felt very self-conscious about what her fist was still anxiously hanging on to, almost as if she _knew_ the fight wasn't quite finished. But it was for now, so she quickly wiped the remaining blood away on her shirt and began to slide the knife back into its discreet scabbard – that was until the Doctor stopped her in her tracks.

"Don't, I'm gonna need that in a minute." He stated cryptically, removing the first shard from Jarg's arm with a quick pull. Surprisingly, the whining beast did nothing but screw his eyes up tight and embrace the pain.

Jenny frowned, confused at why he would want anything to do with the item. Even the others who were standing around and watching with morbid fascination seemed a little bewildered. "May I ask why?" She ventured, not sure whether she was going to like the answer or not.

As it turned out, she didn't.

"I've got a hunch about the venom and the blood," He answered, the second shard coming out just as painfully as the first and dripping with its orange substance. "They could be the same."

Jorena gave a dramatic shudder, her excessively long arms and claws nearly bopping Donna and the Librarian in the face. "So, they get the venom from their…their…" She could barely utter the word. "_Blood?_"

"Might do…" The Doctor replied, fishing out the final shard and snatching the knife from its discarded spot on the floor. Carefully, he poured some of the venom onto the sharp edge of the blade, making sure to get a good pool of it on the surface. "Right then! A bit of an unorthodox experiment coming up, but hopefully very effective."

What he did next almost made Jenny puke, and that was coming from someone with a strong stomach. The Doctor, without hesitation, dipped his tongue into the venom like a dog lapping up water, tasting the small amount he had in his mouth.

"That was…sickening…" Jenny said, shaking her head with her hand over her mouth, almost as if she was holding back the vomit. "…just sickening."

"Actually it was quite tangy. Sort of like an orange really. Or a satsuma." His wide and toothy grin, however, couldn't hide the burning sensation on his tongue for long. He suddenly doubled over with pain, feeling like a volcano had erupted inside his mouth and spilled its blisteringly hot contents down his throat. "Ow, ow, ow, _ow!_" He moaned, scraping at his tongue with his hands – to no avail. "Acid! _Very _strong acid! And definitely their blood. Contains all sorts of weird and wonderful things."

"Oh." All of a sudden, Jenny seemed quite worried, looking down at the blotchy red marks on her arms where the blood had been and feverishly scratching them. "That would explain the itching."

"Don't worry, it'll fade…you know, eventually." The Doctor replied unhelpfully, handing Jenny her knife back and then trying assist Jarg in getting onto his feet – which turned out to be more like helping the Doctor break his back. He seemed to have recovered from the burning blood in his mouth very quickly.

Suddenly, Jenny gave a loud gasp, so much so that Donna was quite ready to catch her friend in case she collapsed with shock. It was the knife, which she held between two fingers and at arms distance like someone would with the black, rotting remains of a once colourful banana skin that had been lying in a filthy gutter for at least a week. The look of utter horror on her face said everything, and Donna could see why.

Nearly the entire blade was coated with the sticky remains of the venom, which seemed to be literally _eating _at it, fizzing and popping away at the steel until the once biting, sharp edge and point was nothing less than an ugly lump of blunt metal.

"This is now _useless_." Jenny shot an angry look at the Doctor, who simply smirked right back at her icy stare and gave a sly wink.

"Nasty stuff Sharndrix blood, isn't it? Although, there is one plus side to it." He pointed to the ruined knife. "It destroys almost all types of metal – including steel weapons. Can't use that anymore can we?"

The audacity and sheer cheek of his cunning plan was infuriating. Jenny was about to retaliate, was on the verge of devoutly claiming that it had saved all of their lives, but instead she stopped herself and returned his smug little smile. "Oh, I don't know, I suppose it'll do to poke someone to death."

That was a reply the Doctor had never expected to hear from her in a million years – _sarcasm._

He felt a slight twinge in his stomach. It was the twinge of realisation; the realisation that in numerous ways, she really was a lot like him. _Too much_, he had said, but those words brought the devastating memories flooding back far too quickly for him to cope with. All at once, the wide grin of earlier looked as if it had been violently ripped off of his face and then plastered with a shell-shocked blankness. Remorsefully, and without another word, he turned away and motioned for the Librarian to lead on, leaving Jenny to gingerly follow on behind and feel very put out.

For what felt like ages they roved through the endless corridors and walkways of the cavern, each and every one of them knowing that Jude had gone mysteriously missing, but every time they addressed his disappearance, they were met only with cold silence or a half-hearted 'hm'. Very suddenly, a tense air had befallen their small group, like a dark, oppressive cloud was hovering overhead, threatening to drown them all in a mighty storm. Donna knew who was causing the bad weather – she was walking just a couple of metres behind him, watching carefully as he trudged after the Librarian like a blinkered mule. For the Doctor to notice someone was missing and not even seem to care was odd; not like him at all in fact. It was against his code of laws surely?

Donna was about to ask him herself what was wrong, when she felt someone urgently pull her back by the arm. Spinning around, she met the nervous eyes of Jenny, who as far as Donna knew had been tagging along at the rear with Jarg, several steps behind everyone else as if they were downtrodden outcasts. She had claimed that it was to make sure Jarg was ok, but there appeared to be much more to it than just that.

"What have I done?" Jenny asked, making sure to keep her voice as low as possible.

"What d'you mean?"

"I've said something wrong, haven't I?" She glanced longingly at the Doctor for a moment, her eyes pleading to the back of his head. "If it's about what I said to him after he destroyed my knife, I didn't mean it. It was a joke. I thought he'd laugh."

Donna tried to remember the exact moment in time she'd said what she said, and tried to recall the moment that the Doctor's happy face had broke. It had all happened so quickly. She could barely tell the difference between a smile and a frown. The thing is, if it had been anyone else who had said that line to the Doctor, Jenny was right; he _would _have laughed.

Her consoling answer just seemed to come rolling naturally out of her mouth. "He's realized something." She looked at her friend triumphantly. "He's realized that you're a lot like him."

For the first time in a while there was a hint of a smile on her face. "Is that something to worry about?"

Donna gave a loud chuckle, forcing the Doctor to fleetingly look over his shoulder at them, still frowning, yet obviously surprised at the sudden positive swing in the atmosphere. "No, its very complicated for the Doctor." For a moment she had to wrestle away the image of Jenny's dead body in her mind, whilst trying to do what the Doctor had failed miserably at – maintaining a smile. "He does care, really he does. I can promise you that. Its just…complicated, that's all."

Donna expected Jenny to feel no better about what she had said, maybe even somehow read the true thoughts running through her head, but surprisingly, the opposite happened. Her face lit up with a relieved grin, almost as if a huge weight had been heaved off of her shoulders.

She was about to say thank you, when an aggressive, unforgiving voice resonated across the entire cavern, so angry and full of bloodlust that it made everyone jump a mile.

"_Well," _The Librarian turned to face them all, utterly shaken, and by the looks of it consulting some sort of digital readout on his wrist that scrolled endlessly with incalculable numbers. _"It appears that we have found the missing party member and his um…" _He gave a fuzzy cough. _"…'friend'. Although from the ruckus I am picking up I severely doubt they are professing their undying love for one another." _

"That's not true," The Doctor said, recognising the voice instantly. "You just never can tell with Jack."

With that, he was off like a bolt of lightening, the tail of his brown coat the last thing to disappear through the doorway with an elegant swish.

* * *

Right now, and for the first time in his entire life, Jude wished that he was dead, simply so he was saved from the haunted memories that whispered in his head day and night…tormenting him…ripping him apart from the inside out – but the one thing that bothered him most of all, the onething that _really _got him begging, was the torn up look in Jack's eyes as he threatened to throw him into the abyss like one of those useless robots. Jude had dreamt of this moment nearly every night for the past five years, and had erupted from his restless sleep a thousand times with the distressing image of his smouldering stare burnt into his retinas. They had spelled vengeance, he was sure of it, and he knew he deserved nothing less than to fall through the depths of this cursed planet to his righteous doom.

He suddenly felt Jack's grip around his shirt collar tighten, and the commanding presence of someone he had once had the right to call a 'friend' leer over him.

"Why did you take this from Ellie?" He said in a voice barely touching a faint whisper, and startling Jude a little at how heartfelt the question seemed to be. But suddenly, all sincerity swept aside, his voice started to get louder and more threatening, as if the answer was already blindingly obvious to him. "She was second in command, it was her job to look after you all whilst I did what I had to do. So why did you take it?"

Jude stuttered and stammered again, partly stranded in his own sea of thoughts but also lost for words. His gaze suddenly fell on something large shifting in the shadows to the right of him, and he felt his mouth swing open when he could finally make out the brutality of the machine waiting patiently for him a matter of metres away, with its own metal jaws open just as wide as his.

So this is what Jack had in mind for him. Not a fathomless fall into a pitch-black cavern, oh no. That was far too good, and far too painless. No, Jack was going to toss him into the exquisite blades and teeth of this monstrosity, and watch as he was ground to a messy, red pulp – just like his colleagues when they were crushed under the immense weight of that ship's engine, completely helpless. They had had each other for those final goodbyes, those last minute hugs and prayers before their world had come crashing down around them…Jude instantly realized that he had nobody…that he was going to die here of all places…

He only noticed that he hadn't answered Jack's question when he felt two sharp stabs of excruciating pain across the middle of his spine, where he had been smashed against the rail in an explosion of violent fury.

"_Tell me!" _Jack hollered, his eyes a mixture of bloodshot rage and broken down tears.

So Jude did, and as he spoke it, he found a torrent of frightened yet remorseful tears flood from his own eyes and roll down his grimy face. "Because I was scared!" He gave a noisy and pitiful sob, absently remembering what his father used to think of grown men who cried – _"women!" _he would gripe. But Jude couldn't help it. Five years worth of worries, grief and suffering came pouring out of him like a dam had burst somewhere inside his heart, and straight away he knew he was telling this to the right man. "I saw you give that thing to her…I don't know, it must have been the way you whispered something in her ear…something felt…wrong. _God!_ I was so stupid and naïve back then…"

Jack was frowning, as if he didn't quite understand. _Couldn't _understand. "You…you thought I gave it to her so she would save herself?"

Jude simply gave a frantic nod, still weeping.

"But she wouldn't have done that." He stated conclusively, like he had the evidence taped to his forehead. "She wouldn't leave Jedrek behind. She could barely let go of him just to talk to me for a few minutes." A tense smile formed over Jack's face, as if he had been struck with a happy memory that also felt cold to the touch. "She loved him, she really did. I gave the Vortex Manipulator to her so she could not only save him, but everyone else in the base as well. That included _you_."

For Jude, that was the final hammer blow, and it smashed him right on the head. He stopped crying, beyond all forms of emotion other than shock.

"I kinda figured that the ship was going to come down anyway," Jack continued, releasing his grip around Jude's collar and letting him stand up properly for the first time in ages. "So I quickly reconfigured the Manipulator to carry a large group of people, and set the co-ordinates to-"

"Bristol…" Jude cut in, eyes wide and staring as his brain still tried to take in all of the information. "…Torchwood's main spaceport…"

"Where somebody happened to have a lovely ship parked there waiting for them. Your fathers, right?" He sneered loudly. "You're a lot of things Jude, but none of us ever suspected you of being a coward. You hid it too well…and it cost them their lives."

"Please kill me." He suddenly begged, startling Jack at how genuinely desperate the request came across as being. "I can't take it anymore."

Jack simply shook his head. "No."

"What?"

"You heard me, _no_. That would make me just as bad as you." For a moment there he could have almost laughed at the dumbfounded look of disbelief on Jude's face – he looked like a little kid who had just been denied a packet of sweets. "You've got what you deserved – life, so you can live out the rest of it thinking about what you have done, just like I have to live mine with the pain. If you really want to die, you'll have the guts to do it yourself. Don't expect me to dirty my hands with your blood."

"But-"

"I've got what I want, and that's the truth, something Torchwood would never give me and something I can never forgive you for. And I am _furious_, I really am." He paused, staring into Jude's hollow eyes. "And I'm sure they wouldn't want it any other way."

With that, the harsh clanging sound of heavy footfalls on metal echoed from somewhere behind them, and within moments the skinny figure of the Doctor came bounding through the doorway, the frown on his face suggesting that he expected to see something bad. He skidded to an unsteady halt, the rubber soles of his shoes squeaking with the slide.

"Hello again!" He quickly shot an overly bewildered look at The Cruncher, who was sat in the mouth of the opposite doorway, unable to go on the narrow walkway but still gazing out over everything with two very curious headlights. The arrival of this new, wild-haired person seemed to particularly interest her.

"You took your time!" Jack shouted, turning his anger and grief on the Doctor. "How long does it take to get someone, _anyone _to help?"

"Ah, well…yes, I might have got a bit distracted…you know, elsewhere…"

Completely out of the blue, Donna, the Librarian, Jorena, a blonde girl and an enormous demon-like creature came thundering into view, obviously trying to keep up with the Doctor.

As they came to a stop and took in their surroundings, the horned demon creature suddenly scowled at Jack, his lips curling up as he gave a guttural growl. With one clawed finger, he thrust it aggressively in his direction. "Counterfeit man!" He bellowed, setting everyone's eyes upon the culprit.

Now it was Jack's turn to feel the heat…


	12. Eleven

**Note: **Hi everyone I am back after a lengthy break and a HUGE amount of school work and exams that I completed just before the summer. Just to let you know that I was two points off a B in the first year of my English Literature A Level, and so overall I should get a B this school year! This is also the reason why this chapter took so long to write. I only had snippets of spare time to write it, and finally I have finished. Although it took so long, this chapter is one of my favourites yet, and this is where the story really starts to get to grips with the conclusion. It won't be long now folks! Enjoy!

* * *

**Eleven**

**The Wordsmith**

His mind was moving at a million miles an hour, rebooting his engineered neurons whilst scanning every system and mainframe across the planet. Already, after searching just a third of his domain, The Wordsmith could sense the echo of abandonment in his robotic servants – he could feel the terrified residual energy the destroyed ones had left behind, and that the intact ones were still carrying around with them. They were wavering. Questioning the insignificant amount personality he had passed on to them. The Wordsmith couldn't even remember why he had done it…it was so long ago. Compassion, maybe? _But it couldn't have been_, he told himself out loud, the faint crackle of his insane voice transmitting itself around every piece of hardware the planet contained.

Compassion meant caring about the useless heaps of junk that served him, and he knew very well – and unashamedly – that he only cared about his stories. _They _were his passion, the only things he thought about night and day, interlacing the plots until he had a perfect tapestry laid out before him. It wouldn't be long now…

He would soon have every memory, every chance meeting, and every battle ever fought right here in his home at his disposal, so he could look upon it forevermore, never lonely or lost again!

_Wait_.

There was something _very _wrong.

He looked closer, _harder_ than he ever had before, because he was so sure that what he was seeing was wrong. The numbers and letters and pictures scrolled furiously through his mind as he double checked – triple checked – the puzzle he had pieced together so far, and that was when he saw the truth. A bolt of anger as crimson as blood shot through his mind and across his worn, mechanical body, because he wasn't wrong. He was _never _wrong.

He saw five missing pieces, a turncoat, and an army at his doorstep, all poised with their finger on the trigger – and the barrel of the gun was pointing directly at him.

In a fit of pure wrath, The Wordsmith tore his mind away from the logical jargon of the planet, throwing himself back to the shadowed reality of his enormous, domed throne room. He gazed around furiously at the elaborately decorated walls for a moment, suddenly noticing that his ten foot tall, arachnid shaped bodyguards were staring at him…and not like they used to either. They used to look up at him with unwavering obedience – their emotionless faces carved to true compliant perfection as they stood by his side, never faltering or failing in their duty. So why were they suddenly looking at him with something akin to disapproval? Why was the golden glow of their eyes burning with the embers of rebellion?

This only made The Wordsmith madder. He lurched up so fast from his silver throne that his worn mechanical body just couldn't keep up. He felt his right knee give a jarring snap beneath him, so much so that he collapsed onto the other one. _"Damn it!" _He screeched, his shrill voice forcing the guards to take a few cautious steps back from him. _"Damn the lot of you!" _

He shot his fist in the direction of the closest guard, firing a bolt of blue energy at his chest. It staggered about momentarily, utterly stunned, before resuming its normal mandatory position, a small, smouldering hole now blasted into its shiny black armour.

"_Traitor__s! All of you!" _The Wordsmith tried in vain to haul himself back onto his feet, desperate to look down on his servants once more. _"Turning on me now in my final days until victory! We are so close…so very close…and you don't have the patience, no, the intelligence to bear with me?" _

His outburst must have sent the four guards into a terrible panic. They hurriedly bowed their angular heads with shame, lowering the intricate bladed spears they were each carrying.

"_I am but one man…remember that…now come on," _His voice suddenly returned to normal, and he gave a sick, twisted chuckle. _"I have some…'business' to attend to." _ Instead of trying to heave his now useless body off of the floor, The Wordsmith did something he hadn't done in a very long time. In an effortless click of mechanisms, his whole head departed from his body and floated impossibly in mid-air, before gliding away from his dilapidated remains without so much as a sound.

As he flew towards the door, manically muttering to himself, his slightly rattled bodyguards warily followed on behind in their master's insane wake, this time only daring to exchange troubled glances at each other…

* * *

Jack felt his heart leap up his throat as the horned creature closed in on him, the dark, monstrous shadow it was casting engulfing him more and more with every thunderous step it took. The thing looked almost familiar…he couldn't quite remember where he'd seen a race like this before, but the busy image of a marketplace crowded with a many-coloured array of tents flashed through his mind, as he watched the demon's amber eyes scornfully scan him, twisting and turning over his soul with a mere stare. For what reason, seriously confused him. 'Counterfeits' didn't really ring a bell at all. He'd left that party centuries ago – badly, as well. Before he even had a chance to blink properly, Jack felt that clawed finger stabbed roughly into his chest, so much so that it practically knocked him over the edge of the cavern. The stinging pain happened to be very unpleasant as well.

"Counterfeit man!" The creature growled again, the words sounding like they had rolled about effortlessly on its writhing black tongue, almost as if it had savoured every letter. "Oh, have I been waiting a long, _long _time to see your nasty little face again!"

The blonde girl sidled up alongside the intimidating beast, her arms crossed and her eyes ablaze with anger. "So _this _is the scumbag that got you into trouble?" Suddenly, her face softened slightly as she gave him a quick look up and down. "Hm, you're right Jarg, he's not that bad looking is he?"

Jack, despite now having a strong fist gripped around his tired and aching body, felt quite flattered. Well, as flattered as he could possibly be in this situation anyway. "You're not so bad yourself-"

"Oi!" Came a familiar reply from the Doctor, who not only sounded annoyed but strangely protective – paternal even. Could she be…no, she didn't even look like him for a start. Maybe they were friends from someplace or sometime.

"_Enough!_" Jarg snarled. "I don't care how good-looking he is, he is the counterfeit man, and he cost me my job and most of my life's savings!" His face creased a little as he tried to maintain a scary grimace and give out an emotionally pained sob at the same time. "I'll never be able to make an honest living anymore…I'll have to turn to piracy, like all the bad Yuluxians do."

Jack squirmed a little in his grasp, to make his uncomfortable position a bit more…well, comforting. The more he sobbed and the more the blonde girl looked on pitifully, the tighter Jarg's grip got, and Jack didn't really want to be the object that was being crushed in the vice. It was time to be nice – something he had been forced into doing over the centuries.

"Look," He patted the huge creature on the arm as reassuringly as he could. "I'm very sorry if I've caused any problems-"

"PROBLEMS?" Jarg suddenly roared, his foul breath becoming heavy and shallow on Jack's face. It was the blonde girl who came to his rescue.

"Let him finish Jarg, he might have something good to say."

"Oh yeah, I do! Thank you. As I was saying, I'm very sorry for those counterfeits that I accidentally handed over to you, but I swear that I got them from the guy that worked at that item trade stall…"

Jarg's face suddenly lit up with enlightenment, like the answer had been sitting in front of his nose the whole time, waving manically at him, and he'd never even been bothered to look at it. "Adei!" He scowled to no one in particular. "That little Char-Week has been trying to run me out of the bazaar since I last beat him at that rock-eating contest! If only I had proof…"

The blonde girl shrugged. "You've got him haven't you?" She was pointing at Jack.

"Hmmm…" Jarg pondered, gazing craftily out of the corners of his eyes at the man he held in one hand.

Suddenly, Jack didn't like the way the Yuluxian was using its brain, so he dove desperately into his jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a menagerie of items – an out-of-date string of raffle tickets that fluttered to the floor, a broken watch stuck on midnight, and last but not least a folded up piece of parchment and a wad of blue coloured cash. He shoved it into one of Jarg's hands. "Take it! You don't need me when you've got that!"

In Jarg's sudden delight, Jack found himself falling a couple of feet to the floor, bruised slightly by the poor landing but on the whole feeling better now he could breathe again. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a delicate yet strong looking hand reach out towards him, obviously offering help. He looked upwards and realised that it was the blonde girl, with the Doctor and Donna anxiously hovering at her side in protect mode. Well, the Doctor was in protect mode anyway. His eyes lingered about restlessly as he watched Jack take the girl's hand and be heaved surprisingly well onto his feet, almost as if he was trying to anticipate his next move, which was pretty obvious really.

Jack did his usual greeting and shook the same hand, returning her smile that was almost as brilliant as his. "Hello there, I don't believe we've been introduced…" He turned his head quickly and stared pointedly at the Doctor, who gave a startled look. "…And before you even begin to say I'm flirting, I'm gonna say what I've told you at least a thousand times before: _I'm only saying hello._"

The Doctor held his hands up defensively. "Fine! Whatever! It's just that-"

"My name's Jenny, by the way." She cut in.

"Captain Jack Harkness, a.k.a 'The Counterfeit Man', according to your friend over there." He threw his thumb in the direction of Jarg, who was grinning devilishly at the paper and money he held in his hands, already plotting his revenge on the hapless Adei. "Jenny – that's a nice name. It suits you."

Donna suddenly seemed very excited. She pointed to herself proudly. "I named her!"

Jack frowned, confused and at the same time a little disgusted. "She's your kid?"

Both Donna and Jenny initially returned his disgusted look, gazing between each other as if suddenly seeing themselves in a whole different light, but eventually their faces creased into hysterical laughter at the sheer absurdness of the idea. Donna frantically shook her head, barely able to contain her laughing fit. "No, don't be stupid! She's-"

A sound like thunder quickly cut her off. It roared on for several seconds, like some kind of mythical titan had found its way into the very core of the planet and had begun to tear it apart from the inside out, the metal shrieking pitifully as it was wrenched away from its seams of existence. But Donna recognised it, and she knew in her trembling heart that the others did as well, so suddenly – and all too quickly – she felt the cold grasp of panic return to her body. The floor trembled with the might of the sound. It sent her head spinning, adrenaline rushing and blood pounding all over again, except this time the distance of the petrifying shock weapon had lessened the severity of its effect, so at least Donna had some room for thought. _That _was the only saving grace.

Jude, however, was a different story. Even when the noise had died down to a neutral wail he bolted away from the rest of the group for the second time, tears carving sad little streams down his blotchy face, only to come running into the jaws of the humungous, rusted robot that was blocking the entranceway to the next corridor. He was so horrified that he forgot – no, didn't _care _that it was there. In one desperate motion he hit out at the machine with his fist, slamming it hard against the appallingly filthy metal whilst screaming into its featureless face. _"Let me through!" _

The robot retreated backwards a little, taken aback by the harshness in the man's punch and voice. Its headlights promptly turned in Jack's direction, almost like it was pleading for some kind of help. Jude quickly realised that it was no use trying to fight his way past what could have quite easily been a brick wall, and collapsed onto his knees, tears anew pouring down over his cheeks as he cradled his bruised hand. He looked utterly broken, muttering something over and over again that Donna could only just make out in the chaos of their situation: _"They've come to kill me…they've come to kill me…they've come to kill me…"_

The Librarian took one look at the readout on his wrist and wasted no time in ushering everybody along. _"We must move, now!" _His crackly voice commanded urgently, as he pushed the Doctor and Donna towards the corridor. _"Help Mr. Benson up and we'll make our way to the secondary control centre on the surface. With my level of clearance we should be able to achieve our intended goals from there."_

"No, wait!" The Doctor interrupted, resisting the Librarian's eagerness. "I need to see the Wordsmith first, I've got to talk him out of this!"

"_With all due respect, Doctor, the Wordsmith is far beyond any stage of 'being talked out of it'." _

"You don't know that," The Doctor replied, shaking his head with frustration. "I've got to try."

The Librarian stood there for a moment, thinking. _"I know it because I am a part of him, Doctor – an extension of his being. I may not feel the need to protect him, to serve him any more, but I know how he feels, how he works and how he thinks." _He suddenly seemed to look right through the Doctor in an unusual way, like a simple robot would, not the intelligent AI construct he so obviously was. His eyes glistened with white light again, and what sounded like an automated message crackled out of his false mouth. _"I am a monument to all of your sins…"_

There was a long, awkward silence. The Doctor frowned. "You're what?"

Slowly the white glow in his eyes faded back to its usual azure blue and the urgency in his mannerisms returned, like he had completely forgotten what he and the Doctor were talking about. _"What are we waiting for people? Didn't I tell you to get moving?" _He turned and looked at the Cruncher, who was just sitting there in the large, archway like a dead duck with Jude grovelling at her front fender. _"Oh, yes…well, I wasn't expecting you to be here at all…um, maybe you should go at the back of the pack, yes? Maybe then we can move faster and you can trundle along behind at your own pace…" _He added under his breath: _"…to get eaten by the monsters of course."_

The Cruncher, not hearing this snide remark, happily agreed, probably over the moon that she finally had some friends. She reversed into the wide corridor to let the others squeeze past her into the brightly illuminated passage. Suddenly another crescendo of shrieks arose from somewhere closer this time, the terrifying screams reverberating around the cavern walls in their search for feeble ears. They were closing in on them, the never-ending horde nipping at their heels with their battle-cry to keep them running, to make the hunt for flesh last just that little bit longer before they were forced to go in for the kill. The Doctor turned to look at the infinite cavern before them, his eyes scanning the gloom with defiance. "Let's go."

"Agreed." Jack answered, reaching down to help up the sobbing husk that was Jude Benson. He was like a rag doll – limp, lifeless and lacking in enthusiasm. He could only just stand on his own two feet as Jack hauled him on to them and clapped him on the back. "C'mon Benson," He encouraged in a sarcastic tone. "Time to do what you do best – _running_." He put extra emphasis on that last word, practically tearing it up with his tongue and spitting it into Jude's stoned face. As they passed the Cruncher and began to march down the corridor, Donna looked between the two men who only stole quick, sharp and ugly glances at each other, and wondered what could have possibly happened between them for Jude to deserve such treatment. Was it really justified? The distance between them both created a tense, invisible rift in the group, as if standing too close to one or the other would make you topple into a black void of nothingness, and Donna was sure that some of the others could feel it as well.

The Doctor's eyes lingered on them every so often, the usual frown on his face showing confusion as he tried to find the logical solution to the loathing in the men's features. The Librarian was up front leading the way – uncaring towards the petty human emotions. Jarg was too busy licking his wounds, literally. Jorena's odd alien face was unreadable to Donna – there were nowhere near as many facial expressions as what a human had, and she seemed far more interested in the drab décor anyway. Jenny was the other person gazing at them, and she didn't even make any attempts to keep it discreet, but the frown she wore was somehow different from her father's. Of course, she was trying to figure out why they obviously hated each other so much, but she seemed almost intrigued, like a child who had seen something new and was torn between being cautious and curious towards her realisation.

The Cruncher was at the back doing exactly what the Librarian had asked her to do, her ramshackle tracks and decaying bodywork drowning out their footsteps as she rattled her way down the corridor behind them. Other than the monstrous looking robot making a din as she trundled along like an old dear with a Zimmer Frame, Donna hadn't heard much else in the way of strange voices. The alien shrieks in the distance had stopped as quickly as they had come, so she could only hope that they had forgotten about them and had moved to somewhere else in the planet, to tear apart robots instead. Donna had to catch her thoughts then. She gazed at the Librarian marching ahead up front, consulting his little data computer built into his wrist as he led them along the safest route – he was so _sentient _– how could she be so cruel as to think of those monsters out there destroying them? Could they even feel pain, loss or fear, or did they simply mimic it? From what she had seen of the Librarian and even the Wordsmith they could feel everything, and the Doctor probably would have called it something like 'supremely advanced robotics'.

Donna just called it pure genius. To be able to create a mechanical being that could think and feel like a human…well…that was just playing God, and she wasn't quite sure whether anybody in the universe should even have such power. Maybe it was a good thing, no matter how sad, that the creators of this place and everything in it had died out after all, just like the Wordsmith had said…

Eventually the Librarian had slowed right down as they approached another archway set into the silver walls – this one a lot taller, wider and more ornately decorated than the last one they had seen – and Donna's suspicions of the robot's sentience were confirmed. He crept up to the entrance, cowering, as if the slightest wrong movement would awaken some terrible monster from its slumber. All in all, he looked mortified.

The Doctor immediately picked up on this. "Problem?" He queried, ogling up the intricate archway and the long passage beyond. The sconce lighting on the walls flickered like candles, giving the corridor the sinister atmosphere of a medieval castle.

"_I'm so sorry," _The Librarian said, something akin to fear and maybe even guilt trembling in his voice as he turned to look at them all. _"I had to bring you past here, it's the only way to the secondary control centre." _His voice lowered even further. _"It might not be worth the risk…"_

"What risk?" Jack asked, his voice as bold as brass to the point that it cut through the silence of the passageways with deafening clarity.

"_Shh! Please be quiet Mr. Harkness!" _The Librarian desperately hushed. _"He'll hear you! By now he's probably recovered and has found out that there are people missing. We have to keep moving, because I'm the first person he'll be on the hunt for. He'll throw my parts to…to…" _He gazed in the direction of the Cruncher, petrified, and it might have only been her imagination but Donna swore that he started to tremble slightly at the sight of her. _"Well, you know what I mean."_

"I don't care what you mean," Jorena said. "Are we leaving this dreadful planet or not?" She too sounded frightened, put off by her guide's own fear of the situation.

"_There's a bit more to it than just 'getting out of here', I'm afraid. This needs to stop."_

"He's right." The Doctor said, looking at Jorena like she was a bad pupil at school. "This doesn't just affect us, it affects the entire universe – even time – and we can't allow it to continue. You want to see your brother again don't you?"

Jorena gave a humble nod.

"Then _that _is what you fight for." The Doctor glanced down the passageway, intrigued. "Personally I just want to see the construct in charge."

_"Out of the question, Doctor. He'll have you sucked away into the data cores before you can blink, no matter how many of those wild legends and rumours about you are true."_

The Doctor looked at him challengingly. "You've heard them?"

The Librarian was about to laugh, but the close proximity to his lord and master turned it into a shallow sigh. _"That's nothing. I'm the Librarian, the Wordsmith's personal aide and most trusted servant – or I used to be. Believe me Doctor, he has allowed me the special privilege of living them, through the memories of those you used to travel with. Daleks, Cybermen, Zygons – I have seen them all."_

"Then you should know what I am capable of." The Doctor countered.

_ "I do know…" _He tailed off, obviously worried by the truths he had hidden away in his mind. _"…and it still isn't enough…"_

The sheer seriousness in his voice had silenced the Doctor, and for the first time since she had met him, Donna saw in his face that there was nothing left to say. She herself knew what the Wordsmith was could do – how he could sift through your mind, bringing about old, forgotten emotions and picking out all the mistakes you ever made. He could read you like a book, and took joy in seeing you rise to the stars…or crash and burn on the ground. The Librarian began to walk on away from the arch, beckoning for the others to follow. _"Now come along, we are not far from the control centre. Like I said before, we don't have a lot of time before he finds us out."_

The others followed him, only too glad to get away from the Wordsmith's domain. The Doctor, however, lingered for a moment, staring down the corridor as if weighing out his options. He could run, make his way into the forbidden realm…but in the end he went against his nature, the Librarian's words echoing in his head as he turned on his heel to catch up with the rest of the party.

He'd never admit it, but this planet was beginning to scare him…

Change him…

* * *

_The turncoat. He must destroy the turncoat. _The Wordsmith repeated this goal in his mind as he furiously buzzed through the labyrinth-like passages of his home, his guards at his side with their glowing spears at the ready, expecting an attack at any moment. Controlling _them _was easy – they were Warriorminds, built to be mindless and obedient, to hunt and protect at his every whim. But the Librarian was different. He carried a ruthlessly sharp mind that was brimming with the personality he himself had given him, and he was capable of fooling many that he was actually alive. Sometimes, the Wordsmith believed that he actually fooled him as well, that he was a loyal servant of his creators, forever admiring him – or dragging him into the ground.

The Librarian was free, he could feel the abandonment in his mind, the sheer renegade streak that had settled in him. After all the Wordsmith had ever done for him, after all the millennia the Librarian had served him so well, he betrayed him now as he was about to complete his greatest work ever. He had even thought of a short yet brilliant name. He called it 'Universe'. It fit, because that is what it was – the story of existence. To think that it was going to be ruined now, after all the centuries he had spent collecting people, was more than he could possibly bear. Maybe he shouldn't have given the Librarian so much freedom? Maybe he shouldn't have given him so much personality? Did he care? No. It was done. The Librarian's command chip had failed him, and it was time for the reckless traitor to truly see what he was capable of. So he took the shortcut, because already he knew where the Librarian and his accomplices were heading.

They were trying to stop him, to turn the rest of the planet against him in one final battle for victory, so they could tear apart his work and scatter it, haphazardly, across the universe once more. This idea made him even more furious – in truth, desperate – so he flew even faster down the endless corridors, his eye flashing a brutal crimson as he pursued the centrepiece of his design.

* * *

Words and blurred images whispered in the Librarian's mind, an intoxicating mixture of fury and fear that sent the very core mechanisms within him haywire. Suddenly his mind opened up, and there was a flash of bright light inside of him.

The past:

_His eyes flickered open for the first time, and suddenly the world was filled wit__h colour, not just the bland and rudimentary structure that had been bolted onto him. He saw a blue light that encompassed his entire vision, something all-seeing and powerful yet benevolent. It somehow had compassion…life. _

_ "You are the Librarian, designated ShiningStarDelta." _

_He felt shocked, maybe even a little fearful. The light had a voice. It was compelling, filled with secrets that were lying beneath the surface and were yet to be told, and a paternal love and kindness that was willing to be spread. He listened:_

_ "You are the keeper, the guardian of our greatest achievements and the protector of what is yet to come…our people are lost, mourning and in need of hope. That is our purpose. We bring hope, and you will help deliver that special need."_

_He felt honoured that the voice trusted him, and tried to get a better look at what it was. He couldn't. His entire being was paralysed, forever looking into the light as it filled his head with ideas…feelings…he never knew how infantile he was until now. _

_ "I am the Wordsmith, the brain and the centre of the mechanism. I am your master, your leader and your life. I am mandate, the world and the people…"_

_There was a noticeable pause, a moment filled with thought and intrigue. He saw the light pulse and begin to turn a deep red, slowly becoming a fire before him. _

_ "I am a monument to all of his sins."_

The moment:

The Librarian's mind snapped back to the present, and he found himself walking absent-mindedly along the breezy corridors of the silver planet, his companions not even seeming to notice that he had been a million miles away. For some reason he felt terrified. It was paradoxically confusing, like something he hadn't even seen yet had scared the living daylights out of him. The Librarian quickened his pace, remembering from a very long time ago where he was and what they were approaching. He ran to the next corner in the corridor and gazed down the passageway beyond, relieved to see what was lying just a short distance away from him, glittering with its silver panelling and waiting patiently at the bottom of the shaft.

_This was it, _he thought, his cybernetic nervous system violently tingling as he struggled to control the vicious cocktail of emotions pouring through him. He felt…_cornered…awful…afraid…furious…_why hadn't he told the Doctor the truth? Would it have even helped for him to know what was going on inside his head? By now the others had caught up with him, interrupting the spinning sensation that he was suddenly experiencing.

"Is this it?" Jenny asked, gazing at the cylindrical metal and glass infrastructure that seemed to be suspended with nothing more than thin air. It looked impossible. The Librarian was already making his way towards it, staggering noticeably down the corridor like a drunk on a pub crawl. _"Yes," _He said weakly, the enthusiasm he had in his voice earlier gone. _"This is the way to our salvation."_

The Doctor suddenly looked concerned. "Are you alright?" He said, running after the robot. "You seem to be getting worse as we go along."

The Librarian shook his head and then collapsed into a heap on the floor, holding his head in what seemed to be pain – if that were possible in a mechanical being. _"It's…it's the strain…" _He replied, voice more crackly than ever and his eyes turning a flaccid, ghostly white. _"I…I can't think straight." _He looked up from his pitiful position on the ground, barely noticing that most of the group were looking down at him, probably afraid more than anything – only some seemed to be worried at his current state. He wondered, did they really care, or was there a selfish purpose behind their concern? Was he simply being used as a glorified tour guide?

Donna bent down next to him, her voice soothing and calm. "Maybe you just need to rest for five minutes, you know, put your feet up for a change."

_Well, at least someone actually cared, _he thought drearily and as best as he could. _"No, I…we…can't…" _ The inside of his head felt hot, as if it was melting into a thick, sticky substance that would ooze its way into his systems and fry them. For a moment he tried to rationalise – his head doing that wasn't physically possible, it was only a minor problem brought on by his broken neural command chip. Soon everything would be fine and he'd be as right as rain. But it was getting worse. The heat intensified to the point that he was writhing around on the floor in mechanical pain, his sensory nodes telling him that the others were desperately trying to help by holding him down, keeping him still. As if he could.

Broken and crispy gasps escaping from his mouth, the Librarian could suddenly see a faded image in his mind. It grew brighter every second, the crimson red becoming sharper and more piercing until he gradually realised what it was. It trembled with rage, the light producing a voice that roared inside of him, shaking more fiercely as the words rattled through his metal heart.

_"LIBRARIAN!"_

Now he knew he wasn't fine, and he wished that his head had melted to save him from what was swiftly thundering towards them. As his vision finally cleared, he looked up at the Doctor, giving one last piece of advice before he passed out. _"Run…"_

* * *

For a second the Doctor was confused, but when he heard a tremendous upsurge of booming footsteps and a bellow of pure rage from somewhere behind him, he knew what the robot had meant. Something was coming, and it was practically right on top of them.

"Do as he says, all of you – _NOW!_" The Doctor screamed over the deafening noise. "Get to the elevator!"

They ran, panicked and terrified at the unknown storm that was quickly approaching them. The ground vibrated more and more violently, until it felt as if there was an earthquake rumbling beneath their feet that would threaten to split the hard floor like a ripe melon. Donna sprinted on, nearly breathless, behind Jack and Jenny, who were well ahead up front and already within reach of the impossible lift. She quickly glanced over her shoulder to see some of the others running for their lives like her, but also the Doctor hunched over the lifeless body of the Librarian, sonic screwdriver in one hand and the Librarian's head in another. She couldn't believe what he was doing. Why wasn't he running?

Donna called out to him in sheer panic, pleading for him to simply run. After all, what could he possibly do for the Librarian now? The Doctor looked up at her for a second, watching her and the rest of the group dart away from him, before swiftly replacing the robot's head to make a break for it. The Cruncher stayed behind. She sat there next to the Librarian's immobile frame, shaking in terror and not knowing which way to turn. Donna felt sad. There had been an essence of innocence surrounding the frankly monstrous robot that had reminded her of a clueless, outsider of a child – naïve, learning. Did she really deserve to be treated the way she did?

Suddenly, and just as Donna had managed to scramble onto the elevator, the wall close to where the Doctor was running burst open like a gigantic door, the force of the blast alone nearly knocking him off of his feet. It was a secret tunnel, it must have been, like what she'd seen in these adventure films such as Indiana Jones or National Treasure, but there was certainly nothing rewarding hiding behind it. The Doctor looked to his right, and Donna swore that his eyes bulged with shock at the five constructs that stampeded out of the gap. What happened next was so quick that that he barely had a second to grasp what it was that hit him.

Something that he thought to be an enormous spear with a blunt head that glowed a deep gold rammed into his torso, knocking him off his feet for all of a breath of a moment and then pinning him against the wall. With a gasp of pain, the Doctor's head connected sharply with the metal, and suddenly there were stars in his eyes, the silver shapes popping and merging before the five robots closing in on him. For some reason he couldn't move. The gold light emanating from the spear seemed to coil itself around his body, paralysing his muscles with something akin to a feeling of being squeezed to death by a boa constrictor. He began to go numb with the steadily increasing pressure around his limbs and neck – the pain he had felt from the force of the blow disappearing as the blood was constricted and blocked into stillness. Now, however, he couldn't breathe.

There was a voice, insane yet somehow seeing reason. _"That's enough! You're not meant to kill him!"_

It seemed to be coming from an orb with a blue light shining within itself, floating in mid-air, practically right in front of his nose. It was staring at him, much longer than what anyone would feel comfortable with. The invisible grip suddenly loosened, but the spear still held him in place like wires on a puppet. Not that it mattered. The Doctor's head was spinning, his ribcage felt shattered and breathing hurt too much for him to even bother to think about running away.

_"I want two of you to follow the ones that escaped in the elevator – they are integral to my design, so return them in a serviceable state." _The voice commanded. Two black and gold blobs in the Doctor's blurred vision silently moved away. _"Another one of you, find the Librarian. He is worth nothing, so do not bother bringing him back. Do I make myself perfectly clear?" _

There was no reply, no acknowledgement that they had understood these commands. Still, the blue orb seemed satisfied, and continued to stare into the Doctor's paling face. The Doctor turned his head to the left slightly, gazed groggily at the elevator. They were gone, safely ascending away from this place, but the spider-like constructs started to haul themselves up the floating ring infrastructure, pursuing them. Looking to his right, he saw nothing. The space where the Cruncher and the body of the Librarian had been was now filled with emptiness like a void, like galaxies spread countless miles apart. Actually, as he found himself submerged in cold, black unconsciousness, he knew where he had felt such emptiness before.

It was the same emptiness that resided in both of his hearts.


	13. Twelve

**Well here it is folks, the twelfth chapter of my story, and things are really starting to heat up now! I'm sorry if the plot is becoming more complex instead of more revealing, there are a lot of little details to tie up since the end of the story is not far off the horizon, and I just want to make sure that they're not overcomplicating the story too much. Oh yes, I should mention (and forgot to in my last chapter) that the 'I am a monument to all of your sins', is not actually mine, it is from the Halo 3 game, but I just couldn't imagine any other line being used so I stole it. ;) I'm sure Bungie won't mind, as I've put a disclaimer to it here! Anyway, I hope you all had a great Christmas (a bit late but oh well) and that you enjoy my latest chapter! **

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**Twelve**

**Hidden Fortress**

The glass-floored elevator effortlessly and noiselessly ascended up the ring structure, showing no signs of stopping anytime soon. In the short space of a minute, it felt like they were already a million miles away from where they had started, the ground nothing more than a pin-prick of decaying light in the distance. The height was dizzying, and Donna had to force herself to look straight ahead at the silver wall that raced downwards to stop herself from being sick with vertigo. Jenny, however, had her hands and forehead pressed up against the glass shell of the lift the whole time, peering down the shaft through the floor with something akin to sadness on her face.

Donna had never truly seen her like it before – only when she was dieing. There had been something horribly upsetting then, a "Damn…I haven't even started yet…" kind of look upon her face that tore Donna's heart in two, and almost certainly Jenny's hearts as well. But this was different. This was distress that took on a helpless form, the kind that drove people into fits of tears. She couldn't believe what had happened, her mouth still hanging open and a devastated frown not too dissimilar from her father's spread across her face. "Is he dead?" She finally found the words to say, her mouth drying up.

"The Doctor? That's unlikely from what I know of him." Jack reassured, probably for his benefit as well as hers. "Still, this incarnation," He suddenly looked a little unsure, but tried desperately to hide it. "He's a bit reckless…and that's coming from a man who can fall a couple of miles off an energy bridge, hit the floor and live to tell the tale!"

Jenny turned to meet his eyes, baffled. "What do you mean, 'this incarnation'?"

Jack returned her puzzled gaze. "I thought you already knew? You seemed to know each other pretty well."

Tentatively, she shook her head, not completely sure whether she should say yes or no. "Not that well." She settled for.

"Oh…ok, well, long story short, when he dies he does this funny sort of light show thing with his head and hands, and before you know it he's a new man, new face." Jack smiled, remembering something in his mind. "I won't even tell you what the next guy is like…"

"I say!" Jorena suddenly declared. "He really is a bizarre man isn't he? I've never heard of anyone changing their looks with lights before. His surgeon must be amazing…"

Jack shook his head. "No, no, no, you're not getting it – _he _actually changes himself to survive death, it's part of his biology. He calls it regeneration."

Jenny looked stunned to say the least, as if she'd thought she'd learnt everything there was to know about her dad, but had suddenly had light shed on a terrible secret that not only affected him but her as well. _You don't know half of it, _Donna thought at Jenny, _and more than likely, neither do I…_

Jenny folded her arms, thinking of a suitable response, but words eluded her. "So…I…" Finally she thought of something to say. "I could be like that too?" Her face widened with horror, looking at Jack as if the mouth of the messenger was the one to blame. "But I like the way I look! I don't want to change!"

Donna had to be the one to gather her senses. "Don't be silly! You're not going to die." Telling her that lie was like chewing on bricks, but she tried her best to continue, to reassure the girl that was destined to be the complete opposite of what Donna had told her. It was almost too cruel…but it was the least she could do – keep her living in hope, to let her enjoy what was left before the premature end. If she could enjoy anything in this messed up situation of course. "Besides," Donna reminded, knowing that she was only telling Jenny half of the truth at this point. "You might not be completely like him anyway."

All this time, Jack and the others – but mostly just Jack – had been stood there, half gob-smacked and half disbelieving at their conversation.

"Wait, so…" Now he was lost for words, his face torn between giving a playful smile and a confused frown. In fact, it was probably doing both simultaneously. "You _are _related to the Doctor?"

Jenny nodded, calmly, as if this scrap of information was common knowledge to the entire universe. Jack was just about to open his mouth to reply when Jude jumped up from sitting in the corner of the lift, eyes wide with fright and his already pale face turning so ghostly that he could have been transparent. _"Shit!" _He cursed, gazing down through the glass floor as if it was about to shatter beneath his feet. "What in God's name is that?"

They all looked down, not really knowing what to expect, but judging from Jude's petrified reaction and his reputation for being scared stiff anyway, it couldn't be anything good. It wasn't. What seemed to be two gigantic, arachnid-formed robots as black as death climbed their way up the metal rings, agile, as if the amazing acrobatic feat they were achieving was as simple as taking a stroll in the park. They were fast, so fast that by the time the elevator had begun to agonisingly slow its ascent, they were practically right underneath them, golden eyes burning with what must have been a blinkered sense of duty. Whatever happened, they weren't going to stop. Just as the elevator glided to a halt and revealed a long corridor beyond, one of them reached for some kind of tool attached to its back.

The result was what initially looked to be a short, ebony pole, but within a second it extended itself to a considerable length, a burning gold spearhead to match the robot's eyes blossoming like a mechanical flower at the end. Before it had even done so, Jack knew what the robot was aiming to do, so just as the lift's door slid down to let them out into the corridor, he pushed everyone out of the elevator. Suddenly, the spear came crashing through the glass floor, not completely shattering it but causing enough damage to send tiny shards flying through the air. Donna and the others had to run and cover their eyes at the same time.

For a frightening moment she felt the glass bite against her skin, stinging her, but that was the least of her concerns. By the time they were out in the corridor and running for the room ahead of them, the spear had been thrust through the bottom of the lift for the second and last time – they were through. Donna for some reason felt a strange pulling sensation, as if she was rapidly slowing down and being dragged towards something like a magnet. The control room and her friends ahead of her seemed to be retreating, racing on to daylight whilst her limbs grinded to a halt – held in darkness. Donna's heart sank faster than a lead brick. She felt herself topple, and before she knew it she was sprawled out on the floor, everything immobile apart from her eyes. When she looked upwards she could see the frightened faces of her companions, some of them continuing to run into the control room, but the others slowing their pace, desperate to help but unsure what to do. Suddenly, a huge, metal spider's leg came down next to her face, so close that she could hear the mechanisms clicking and whirring within.

It was a strange thing to be paralysed yet aware; Donna thought idly, terror turning into an unusual calm. It must be what it feels like to be in a coma, except in there you can't see. The world around you becomes strangely slow – yet quite a length of time might have passed – and all you can concentrate on is the will to keep breathing as your lungs don't seem to respond. Your breaths become shallow, laboured, and the one sound that overbears your hearing is the buzzing within your own head as the blood tries desperately to keep you conscious. Donna felt as if she really _was _going to pass out. She suddenly felt tired, shattered even, as if her eyes just couldn't stay open. But she fought it, hard. She must have looked like a wreck, lying on the floor, gasping for breath, her eyes flitting about frantically as her nervous system went into shutdown.

Donna briefly saw Jack draw his gun and fire off a few rounds at her captors, but she got the impression that this didn't work. He too began to behave a little odd, as if something invisible was restraining him and bringing him to the ground, and she could see quite clearly another one of the enormous spiders pointing its spear at him, the gold light seeming as if it were writhing around his entire body. Nevertheless, these things scarcely mattered to her. She was just concentrating on breathing, in and out, in and out…panic overwhelming her when she realised she was getting too tired to even do that. Suddenly, Donna felt herself being picked up, her limbs dangling beneath her, limp and lifeless, as she drifted away from the ground and into the air. This did nothing to make her feel any better.

She felt her lungs collapse, her head swim, and then there was darkness…

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Jude Benson was delirious – drunk even – with terror. He was huddled down under a control console in the secondary control centre, shivering with mortified shock as he watched the scene that lay no more than twenty metres before him. Already Jack and the red-haired woman who he barely knew at all were being assaulted by…was it rays of _light? _Was such a thing even possible? He had never seen anything so advanced, even in his days of Torchwood, where an ornamental-looking weapon could grab and torture people with nothing more than a stream of brilliant light that shone out of a spearhead. The giant, monstrous robots were merciless, slowly drawing both of their victims in towards them whilst fixing their attention on the others.

One of them, the one that was holding the woman prisoner, opened up a plate on its chest, the mechanisms whirring into place to reveal a warp of green light that seemed like a strangely calming force amongst the horrifying chaos. Jude couldn't help but look right into it – as soon as his eyes had locked onto the thing he was hooked – feeling the euphoria of peace and relaxation flow across his body as it whispered to him, as quietly as a lone mouse scurrying across a church floor. It was near silent, but there, he was _sure _of it…the more he believed the louder it became. It beckoned him. For the first time in his life, Jude found himself no longer cowering in the corner, getting up off the floor and walk towards the danger, serenely, as it began to promise him things that even death couldn't provide.

He stepped over the threshold of the control centre, blinkered, as he barely noticed the terrified form of Jorena shielding her eyes from the light's glare and Jarg as he tried with all his might – and this time around it wasn't enough – to persuade Jenny to leave the two prisoners behind. Jude didn't notice it, but Jenny caught sight of him walking onwards in a transfixed, mesmerised state, at first a little taken aback about how unusually brave he was being. It soon occurred to her that this wasn't bravery at all. She'd seen it – images in her mind of people marching on when others simply gave up, flesh shredded by bullets that were meant for someone else – _that _was bravery, the ultimate pursuit of a soldier. This was…_sickness_…shock…

For a brief, _nanosecond _of a moment, she looked at the light that Jude was so enamoured by, and felt her eyes recoil away and screw up in horror. It wasn't right. Something tried to pierce her senses, pull her mind into its light – a voice, one sharp voice edged with an insane crackle laughed in her ears, taunting her with prophecies of death and destruction, all in the space of a heartbeat. It promised salvation – a shadowed realm where time had never existed and death was an impossibility. In her mind, and in both of her hearts, it offered a life of nothing. By the time her eyes had dared to open again, she knew what she had to do.

Jack's discarded handgun was lying on the floor at the arachnid robot's many legs, just waiting for her like a patient friend. She ran for it, shaking off Jarg's iron grip and forlorn pleas. She wouldn't do it again; she wouldn't leave someone else to die like she almost had with Jarg – she was a soldier, nothing could change that, not her father, not the entire universe. Bravery ran like the blood through her veins. It was material – it was _her_. Time to prove it. The robot had realised her close proximity and reckless charge, its creepy, featureless face suddenly focusing on her as she slid across the floor to avoid its advancing legs that threatened to knock her flying at any moment. In one deft movement she had the gun in her hands – the smooth metal grip seeming to morph itself to fit – and she was behind the construct, gun raised and ready.

The thing turned to face her, the paralysed figure of Jack still bobbing in mid-air and getting ever closer to the light shining out of the robot's chest. It was now or never. She aimed directly at the head of the spear, right where the brightest pin-point of light shone, and squeezed the trigger. She saw the effect before she heard the deafening crack and felt the surprisingly strong recoil of the gun. The head of the spear exploded in a blinding flash of light, shrapnel from the blast whizzing in all directions, hitting anything. Jenny just about saw Jack thrown against a wall in the devastating confusion, the robot detaining him exploding in a ball of flames, and the other lose its footing as several shards of the destroyed spear rammed into its body and head, hopefully felling it for good. Jude was on the floor, his hands and arms covering his head and smoking scrap littering the space around him. At least he had the sense to duck, she thought.

Donna laid a couple of metres away from him, groggy, cut and bruised but by far in better shape than Jack. He was slumped up against the bottom of the wall, surrounded by wreckage and the dieing embers that still spat and crackled within it. His head was limp and turned to one side so that she couldn't see his face. Jenny's hearts felt as if they had climbed their way up her throat. She'd only meant to free him; she had no idea that by shooting the spear it would explode and cause a disaster such as this. Guilt and desperation driving her forwards, Jenny rushed over to the lifeless body of Jack, whose clothes and skin was scorched a deathly black. Immediately she knew where to look for the vital signs of life. She pressed two of her fingers, hard, against the side of his neck, just next to the throat. Momentarily, in her head, she heard herself feverishly pray.

Nothing. Not even a tremor to tell her that the blood in his veins was still flowing. Stunned and empty, her fingers simply slipped away from his raw skin, the back of her eyes inevitably starting to sting. This man whom she had scarcely known, had only _briefly _talked to in that damn elevator was dead, because of her. In the corners of her eyes, she saw the overbearing shadows of her friends gathering around her. She couldn't even turn to face them. A broken yet soft voice tried to reassure her. "I wouldn't worry." She finally had the guts to turn around. It was Jude, his blotchy face and distant eyes doing nothing to move her. If anything, she pitied him. He was in a state of non-existence.

"He's dead," She stuttered, still unable to come to terms with the truth. "Because of me…there's _plenty _to worry about." Tears finally overwhelmed her, so she turned away again to hide them. Everything her father had ever said about her – no matter how much he tried to tone it down in the end – the machine, its endless barrage of protocols, the very essence of the person she was forced into being; all of it was true. She was out of control. At that moment in time she felt like a monster, like she had no other choice but to drain the accursed blood from her veins.

Suddenly, Donna gave a startled cry, her face smothered with disbelief. "Hang on!" She shrieked, hands shaking. "The marks on his face!"

Everyone looked at him, captivated beyond comprehension. Everyone apart from Jude, whose face still carried a sense of complete and utter abandonment. There must have been nothing left in the universe to amaze him now.

Donna's mouth began to slowly twist from shock to an unsure smile. "They're gone!" Before anyone could answer her incredulous remark, the cadaver of Jack gave a tremendous gasp as the air poured back into his lungs, like he was simply asleep and had forgotten how to breathe. His eyes shot open, wide and staring at the stunned people standing around him.

They all returned his dizzy gaze, equally as wide. Jorena simply fainted, overcome, her fat green body making a huge thud as it hit the ground.

Jack tried to push himself up into a sitting position, frowning as if he couldn't quite understand where he was. "Twice in one day?" He said dazedly, shaking his head. "I am _not _doing very well."

Jenny simply felt overjoyed. Before he could draw in another breath, she flung her arms around his neck, all of her relief being squeezed into his still shaking body. Despite the fact she was crying her smile was as wide as it could possibly go, and the words that had been penned up inside her head just poured impulsively out. "I am so, so _sorry…_" She sobbed, finally releasing her grip and searching his face for some kind of forgiveness. "I…I didn't mean for it to happen like that…I…just…"

Jack held her arms for a moment, giving her a warm, reassuring grin. "You saved all of our lives. Thank you."

Jenny looked taken aback – shell-shocked – she gazed around at everyone, seemingly looking for their approval as well. "Are…are you sure?" She helped Jack onto his feet, although for some reason she felt afraid of touching him, as if he was still a broken heap slumped against the wall. Seeing someone come back to life, miraculously, was very unsettling…it was like talking to a dead body…

"Of course, I'm fine – we're all fine. Well, apart from her," He pointed to Jorena, who was still floundered on the floor, only just coming around with Jarg flapping a giant paw in her chubby face. "But we can't blame her. I nearly fainted myself when it first happened." He gazed around him, taking in all the chaos that was scattered across the corridor. "So, where are we?"

"It must be the secondary control centre, like the Librarian said." Donna deduced, pointing to the only room at the end of the corridor that was aglow with a familiar cobalt light. What looked to be several sophisticated computers and their baffling array of controls lined the perimeter of the grey walls, humming with subdued life.

All six of them made their way into the room, gazing around at the alien controls with a look of sheer bafflement, as symbols in the shapes of many conjoined circles and squares danced on the displays.

"It's all well and good coming here," Jude grumbled, "But what the bloody hell are we supposed to do now? That robot told us next to nothing." He seemed to have suddenly regained some of his past vigour, probably thinking that they were close to the end and to going home. Frustration simmered on his face. "To come this far, almost get killed by a horde of insects and moronic robots, and now not be able to do anything – this planet beggar's belief!" His fist slammed on a control panel.

"Well Jude, you're the computer expert." Jack said, shooting him a resolute look. Their eyes stayed locked like that for several seconds, disbelief slowly creeping into Jude's gaze.

"You're not serious?"

Jack simply nodded.

"For God's sake Jack, what do I know about alien computers?"

"You've worked with them before."

"Yes, but nothing like this!" He waved his arms at the controls manically. "This is incredibly advanced stuff! I can't even read the language for a start."

Jack looked again at the swirling shapes, thinking. A hammer in the back of his mind was pounding the grey ass of his brain for not remembering where he had seen them before. They were exactly like the ones he had seen in the Cruncher's lair. "They are…familiar…" He settled with, distracted as he searched through a menagerie of memories in his mind, but the further back he went the more faded they became.

"They seem familiar to me too."

Jenny's words surprised him. "They do?"

She nodded, frowning as if she was having a serious headache trying to come to terms with it. "I don't know why, they just do."

"Any ideas?"

Reluctantly, she shook her head.

Jack sighed. "Ok then, we resort to button bashing -"

Jude looked at him, horrified, so he corrected what he had said. "Alright, _educated _button bashing."

He sneered. "There is no 'educated' in it, it's pure guesswork."

"Then get guessing Benson, who knows how many more of those things are going to come after us?" He glanced in the direction of the felled robots, which were still smouldering in mountainous heaps. "Like you said, on a planet like this I dread to think."

"Right then, here we go." Jude said under his breath, probably to calm his own nerves more than anyone else's. Nobody knew what was going to happen – the whole place could self-destruct, the ceiling could cave in, or a door could magically appear from nowhere and seal them into this place like a tomb – all with the push of one button. The numerous and frightening possibilities were giddying.

Hesitantly, Jude placed his hand on what at first appeared to be a square screen set into the panel. A blue light suddenly jumped out at him, quickly collecting itself and forming a holographic keyboard that simply floated in mid-air. If anything, it seemed to follow his fingers wherever they went. On each button – of which there were many – there was a unique symbol, some of them not differing much from another. Jude pulled a flabbergasted face, finger tips hovering over the buttons like hesitant flies. "The layout is like nothing I've ever seen. I wouldn't know where to start!"

He was right. The spread of the buttons was vastly different from a typical keyboard, with more options and combinations to select from. Some even decided to swap places every couple of seconds, skimming around the exterior of the keyboard before settling into place in a new position.

"Start off by pushing the most simple looking one, surely not much harm could come of that." Jack suggested, trying to sound optimistic. In reality his stomach was doing somersaults.

"Famous last words…" Jude muttered, but he took the advice anyway, finding a symbol that was nothing more than a circle with a small, crescent indentation in it. So far, it was the only one he could see that wasn't spinning or oscillating wildly. All his finger had to do was brush the button and it hummed with recognition, becoming highlighted in a bright red to show that it had been pressed. At first nothing happened, but a few seconds later another screen appeared before Jude's face – two circles with different symbols in each.

"What's this?" He said, more worried than ever now.

Jack's eyes widened with excitement as he leapt up from where he was leaning on a control panel to join Jude. "Now I've definitely seen this before, down in that cavern! These two buttons mean 'yes' or 'no', and if I remember correctly the 'yes' was on the left."

Jude glanced at him, sceptical and unnerved. "Are you sure?"

"Pretty sure, yeah."

"We can't afford to be pretty sure if -"

"For Christ's sake Jude, just press it!" Jack yelled, the shock of his voice not only making everyone in the room jump, but forced Jude to automatically react and press the left button before he could stop himself. Almost immediately the entire place shook, the rumbling growing to the point that their teeth started rattling in their heads.

Jude shot an angry glare at Jack. "You see! _This _is where 'educated' button bashing gets us! _Dead!" _He spat in his face.

"Of course! You'd know a lot about that, wouldn't you Benson?"

Both men suddenly felt a hand on their chests that pushed then apart. They turned to see the exasperated face of Donna. "Will you two please, _please,_" She reiterated, "Stop squabbling like a pair of petulant little boys?" She pointed at the wall the control panels were lined up against. "See for yourselves."

They turned their in time to see the entire fortress of a control centre seemingly glide upwards, the once boring grey wall suddenly shimmering into one long window that stretched the entire width of the room and opened up like a giant bulkhead on a bunker. Slowly, something incredible that they all hadn't seen in what felt like a lifetime rose majestically into view – the outside world. The three suns had just risen over the horizon, their blinding white discs shining anew upon a world below that was quite simply burning. All of them had to shield their eyes for a second, overwhelmed by the brightness of the natural light, but also by the fury of what was raging on beneath them. As the control centre came to a grinding halt, the scene before them suddenly rendered in perfect clarity. Jack couldn't stifle the gasp that slipped out of his mouth, and Jude's skin pallor sunk like his jaw.

Forests were on fire. The ground was charred and churned up to reveal the silver of the planet beneath, but the greatest aberration of all was what had caused all of this devastation, and like a mutated, beached whale it was slumped on its side, billowing clouds of deathly smoke and licks of fire. Crawling around it, their clawed limbs waving above their heads in anger were thousands of the insect creatures they had met in the cavern, whole hordes of them devoted to ripping apart and burning the planet alive whilst the others slipped through a laceration in the planet's surface that their downed ship had created. More and more were simply filtering through, invading the very depths of the Wordsmith's ransacked home.

Already, from the mere sight of them, Donna knew that he was truly deluded to ignore this – he wouldn't stand a chance, no matter how powerful he claimed himself and his servants to be.

"It's the same one…" Jude blurted out, incredulous and petrified.

Jack could barely say a word. It was as if the final realisation had hit him on the head with a blunt object. "I know."

"Same what?" Donna asked, confused.

Jack turned to look at her, a grave – and possibly quite upset – sheen in his eyes.

"The same ship that attacked Earth five years ago on my timeline."


	14. Thirteen

**Phew, well this is one helluva a chapter, and yes I'll admit to being lazy for a few months and not writing anything (oops!), but here it is at last - Chapter 13. Seriously, if you are reading this _still, _then thank you for holding on so long. You are heroes! I have planned out the rest of the story in some form, and have realised that is going to be 17 chapters in all and of course the epilogue at the end, so not long now I hope! Anyway, happy reading, and look out for my next chapter _'The Wake of Devastation'. _Enjoy! **

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**Thirteen**

**Revelations**

The last thing he vaguely remembered was trying to force his heavy eyelids to open, which he only succeeded in doing for a few moments, catching blurred glimpses of what must have been the ceiling and a blue light shining somewhere close by. He was being dragged across a hard surface that made his head pound with the discomfort of it, and briefly he could hear an fervent whispering that he had trouble deciding whether it had come from inside his own head or from whoever it was who had apparently captured him. To be honest with himself, he couldn't be bothered in the slightest to even begin thinking about what was happening. Instead, he let himself drift in dreamless darkness. Everything was at least partially comforting that way.

The Doctor was now groggy but awake, lying immobilised on the floor in some high-ceilinged hall, the architecture reminding him very much of the old-Earth cathedrals. The only huge difference was the silver panelling that swept across the walls and ceiling like a sparkling ocean, every reflection of light and flicker of movement rolling across the flawless surface like waves. It looked good enough to drink, to swim in…he'd only just realised how thirsty he really was…

Momentarily mesmerised by its relaxing effect, the Doctor had forgotten about listening to what one of the robots not far from him had been saying in its disturbingly enthusiastic voice. The other, as far as he knew, was silent, mute – an unwavering giant that served an insane orb of blue light.

It had suddenly occurred to him that Donna and the others had been pursued by two of these constructs. His stomach lurched forwards without him and his hearts burned with panic – what if they hadn't escaped? More importantly, if they had been caught, what would be their fate? An eternity as the thralls of a computer? That thought was almost too much to bear, so with every last reserve of strength he had, the Doctor tried to heave himself up off the ground. He got no further than a few inches. The invisible force gripped tighter, sending spasms of agonising pain shooting through his body as he was forced to the floor again. This exertion had gained the attention of the blue orb. It glided over to where the Doctor was lying out of breath and exhausted, hovering over his head with its one blue eye swivelling in the socket as it scrutinised his every reaction.

Never before had he felt so uncomfortable in the presence of a machine. Of course, he'd met many of them before, some simple servants with little to no free will of their own, but some that were far more advanced and capable of mimicking sentient actions and emotions. That was the key word: _mimicking. _As he gazed uneasily back at the orb, partly blinded by its dazzling light, he somehow saw intelligence within it, like the light was pouring words into his head. What was worse, he couldn't look away – couldn't break the spell that ensorcelled him in its almost pleading stare. For a moment, the Doctor had no doubts that what he was looking at was living, it had to be. The azure glow conveyed such a weighty load of emotions and torment unto him that his head began to spin.

At last it spoke, firm but with an undertone of excitement, like an old schoolmaster explaining a complex yet interesting concept to a little boy. _"Doctor, I have waited a long time to see you – to see what you have become – and now here you are." _

The Doctor found that he couldn't reply; even his jaw was paralysed.

"_I apologise for the many tedious distractions along the way – that turncoat the Librarian, your friends, some old and some new – the transition should have gone smoother." _It suddenly gave a manic titter that made the hairs on the back of the Doctor's neck stand up. Every decibel reeked of insanity. _"Not that it matters! You shall not need them anymore, because now we have each other, just how it should be. Do you not agree, Doctor?"_

The unseen bonds gradually loosened around his torso, and he was just about able to push himself up into a sitting position. The words that stumbled out of his mouth were unformed and slurred, as if he was only half alive, yet his mind was racing with questions that thirsted for answers. "You must be the Wordsmith? I'd shake your hand but perhaps you'd find that offending…"

The orb gave another giggle. _"Still strong enough for humour I see? My, every mind I have filtered for scraps of information on you were right – you really are capable of incredible things, Doctor, some things more than others." _ He suddenly seemed to draw himself up to his full height – something that should have been impossible for a floating orb yet strangely wasn't – looking down on the Doctor with an indomitable sense of pride. _"But yes, I am the Wordsmith, one of the last of my kind."_

The Doctor frowned but also nodded at the same time, sympathising. "Ohhh, I know how that feels. The last of what, I wonder?"

"_Strange…" _The Wordsmith began, sounding almost disappointed at his lack of knowledge of him. _"I thought you knew, a star-trotting individual such as yourself. When I look at you I see a man always running, always forgetting, and I wonder – was it worth it?"_

The Doctor's eyes became hollow. He knew what the construct was asking but dare not believe it. "What?"

The Wordsmith blatantly ignored him and began pacing backwards and forwards, rambling like a mad soothsayer. _"And your friend, the man who slaughtered thousands yet saved everything but the people he loved – do you think he found it worthwhile, with nothing to go home to, a slap round the face and an eternity of exile?" _His voice started to deepen and contort, a red glow like the embers of a fire creeping into the light of his eye as an apparent fit of rage took hold. _"Even your own flesh and blood – not quite dead yet, it seems – do you think that she thanked you when you ran, her body barely cold?" _He gave a deranged sneer. _"I have sifted through the confused memories of her mind and that of those who know her – do you think that I do not see a future? Denied happiness only to find it herself?" _

The hint of red now became a burning crimson, glowing with such ferocity that it lit the silver panelling of the hall, casting everything in a hideous blood light. _"And what of me? Ascended to glory only to be struck down in anguish and despair – do you not see why I do what I do? I AM the Wordsmith, the brain and the centre of the mechanism:" _He surged forwards at the Doctor, so much so he was forced onto his back again, one hand held before his face as if to defend himself from the rage of the machine.

"_I am a monument to all of your sins."_

* * *

The Librarian awoke with a terrible screaming inside his head, full of anger so profound that he found himself shaking uncontrollably with terror. Nevertheless, he somehow felt a little different, lighter, as if the thoughts surging through his mind didn't have to _be _him – he was simply listening to them, reacting to them. He had control. Optical circuits still blurry, he gazed at his surroundings half-blind, and so was only half-aware of someone else being with him. His sensory nodes detected the unmistakable smell of oil and grease, something he was quite used to when overseeing the technical constructs of the planet, but he could also hear a deep rumble that slightly shook the floor. It was coming from somewhere nearby.

_"Hello?" _He ventured, reaching out with his hand to try and find anything that was remotely solid. All that replied was an ominous creak, so ancient and ghastly that it could have been a door in an abandoned house, swinging eerily on its rusted hinges. Anxiously staggering to his feet, the Librarian knocked the side of his head a few times with his hands, dispelling the disturbing whispers in the back of his mind but also restoring his vision. The source of the creak seemingly materialised before him.

"_Oh my goodness!" _He cried, half-afraid but mostly just surprised when he saw the hunk of monstrous metal sat in the centre of the storage room they were apparently hiding in. _"Honestly, are you still here? I thought I'd ditched you at that catastrophe back there…"_

As innocent as ever, the Cruncher couldn't possibly believe that her master was talking about her. He must have been hallucinating somehow, either that he was still confused. After all, she had saved him from certain destruction – their true leader, the mad one, would have destroyed him outright. Her mind was old, by many millennia even, but she could still see – hear – the fury in his head, so powerful that it would have shattered her completely if she hadn't have grabbed the Librarian with her apparatus and sped away as fast as her tracks could carry them. She liked to think that they had gotten away without the Wordsmith or his servants noticing, but even she knew that to believe that would be stupid. Her master was vigilant, freakishly so, and he would stop at nothing until the entire planet was once more under his heel.

The Librarian was still ranting in her face, his voice too loud for comfort: _"…and how did you manage to escape from the scrap disposal area anyway? I thought you were programmed to forget that there was an access point down there?" _A bulky, scoop-like appendage rose from the Cruncher's feeble frame and covered where his mouth should have been, trying in vain to shut the babbling robot up. _"Get that filthy thing away from me!" _He batted it away, momentarily panicked by her bold action. _"You have no idea how easy it is to stain white with your…your dirtiness!"_

So he was talking about her. Suddenly she felt ashamed to be in his presence, and to have behaved so rashly. She was the servant, he was the master – why had she been so stupid _again_ and forgotten something as important as that? Obviously, she was too frightening to be up here with the more sophisticated constructs. She was designed to destroy, to reduce things to nothing. Being scary was inevitable.

The Librarian seemed to notice her disappointment as she backed off a little bit, giving off a terrible chuffing noise like a sobbing child would make. A strange feeling came over him. He took a couple of steps towards her, hand held out as if to pat her apologetically. Instead it just hung in mid-air uselessly. _"Uhhmm…look, I didn't mean to sound ungrateful. It's obvious that you saved my existence from a potentially nasty situation, and I'm much obliged. It's just that…" _He struggled to find the right words as she looked at him expectantly with those rusty headlamps. _"Well, you are a little bit scary. You are the ender of all constructs on this planet, and well, the others aren't exactly going to warm up to you the way I am…" _He corrected what he had said, coming over all self-conscious, _"…because I need you, not because I like you or anything…"_

Amazingly, this helped. The Cruncher cheered up immensely at his words, clacking her instruments together with delight.

_"Good. Now that we've got that awkward moment out of the way and settled our huge differences, we can carry on with the task at hand." _He gazed around the walls of the room, peering past metal crates and stacked up silver panels in his search for something. Almost immediately he spotted it; a plaque on the wall above the door that was adorned with a symbol – a line of hexagons that crossed through a circle with two indentations. _"We're in Storage Room Twelve, which means that we're still not that far from the secondary control centre…" _He sighed. _"…but also not far from the Wordsmith and the Sharndrix horde. It's like being wedged in between two rocks, isn't it? Ready to be squeezed to death by both armies." _

The Cruncher suddenly pointed in the direction of the doorway with one of her more delicate claws, ushering the Librarian behind a crate with another. This one movement was so urgent that he did not object once to being touched this time. Very carefully so as to avoid causing any noise with her rusted joints, she put the claw up to her bladed jaws, looking at him for silence but also approval, as if she was scared that she was somehow not doing the right thing. He nodded slowly at her when he saw the hulk that prowled down the corridor outside, its glowing eyes scanning every inch of the area with meticulous precision. For a couple of seconds the jet black construct turned its gaze on the storeroom, and the Librarian thought that he felt his metal heart stop with sheer terror alone. Just as he expected it to stride towards them, the dreaded spear brandished and ready to strike, it relinquished its search and continued down the corridor, obviously unaware of their presence.

Only when he was sure that it was gone, the Librarian resumed speaking, sticking to a minimum whisper just in case. _"Ok, I have an idea that is probably going to get us caught and destroyed, but if we pull it off, it is the best hope this planet and all its occupants have of survival. Forget the secondary control centre – it was merely a means to an end, and the path is more than likely too dangerous to pursue now. We will trigger something that will truly turn the tide, and that is the Neural Command Relay." _For a moment he paused, seeming quite surprised with himself. _"How do I know that? It is forbidden, erased from me like the access point in the cavern should be with you…so how can I know what it is?" _He felt a surge of fury in his mind again, more desperate and frustrated this time…almost as if his master was trying to erase the memory from his mind himself…

He brushed it off. It was not what he was really feeling, so why would he care? He shook his head to get rid of the thought. _"Never mind. Let's get going before that bodyguard of the Wordsmith returns. If we're careful we can follow on behind it at a safe distance."_

Gingerly, and jumping at every shadow that played across the walls, they both set off down the corridor, making sure to keep to a steady pace so as not to run into the robot that was pursuing them. At first it went well. Occasionally they would come across one or two technicians that they had to duck out of sight from, for fear of them seeing the Cruncher and raising the alarm, but even then the Librarian could see that they were terrified. A few of them were shaking, muttering to each other in barely perceptible whispers as they tried to go about their work. The bodyguard had been here. Very rarely did a construct on the planet ever see one of these massive robots – if they did then it was never for a good reason. Someone was going to be destroyed on the orders of the Wordsmith, and the Librarian knew utterly and completely that it was him. Perhaps even the robots that he had once worked compliantly with knew as well? If so, would they give him up on sight? He was free; they were probably not.

Regardless of the infuriating setbacks, both the Librarian and the Cruncher made good progress out of the storeroom corridors and into the more active area of the planet: the control complex. They were met with what seemed to be a disaster area. Cables and wiring, silver panels that were ripped from the wall and the desiccated corpses of several robots – some of them the security centaurs in their golden suits – were strewn across the floor in disorganised heaps. Only the odd Sharndrix body was present amongst the carnage, their orange blood that the Doctor had identified as a poison collecting in large, splattered pools.

"_There's been a battle here, most likely not long ago," _The Librarian said, trying to avoid the sparking wires and acidic blood as he carefully tread his way towards the primary control centre. _"I hadn't anticipated the Sharndrix getting this far though…I don't know whether to see it as a curse or a blessing to our plans." _

The Cruncher simply shook at the prospect of meeting the savage creatures again. She had helped her new friend, Jack, fight them off when leaving the canyon, and even the sensation of touching their foul flesh became unbearable. If she was a so called 'devil', then what did that make these creatures?

Both robots rounded the corner into the primary control centre, which seemed to have been completely abandoned – a huge contrast to the scene earlier, when swarms of robots had been panicking at the ship crash landing on the planet above them. Now, the glass computer screens on the walls were shattered, the once clean, white panelling pocketed with shards of Sharndrix bullets and scorched black with deflected laser beams. No matter how bad it looked, the Librarian simply didn't care anymore. Before he was free, he would have worried himself to no end about how disorganised things were, and that no work was being done to clean the situation up. He would have berated his fellows, but now all he cared about was setting them free too. He knew exactly where he was going now, an image in his mind of long forgotten schematics blazing before his eyes, seemingly melding with his surroundings.

It was incredible that something so vital, so important to the Wordsmith retaining his control, was planted beneath them the whole time. If it hadn't have been for the Wordsmith bringing the Doctor and his friends here in the first place, they might never have found it for all of eternity, and the universe would be swallowed whole by their master's obsession.

The Librarian was there now, in the centre of the room, reaching down to release a doorway that had not been opened since the planet's inception.

* * *

The Wordsmith's blind fury had ended as quickly as it had come, the burning red glow returning to its normal blue within seconds of him uttering that strange – yet all too familiar – message. He backed off from the Doctor, not in the slightest bit perturbed by his sudden outburst like the Librarian had been. In this construct, there was no remorse, just desperation. The Doctor sat upright again, dumbfounded, his arm still hanging before his face in shock and the words that the Wordsmith had spoken still replaying in his mind. He frowned. "You…you mean me?"

The Wordsmith said nothing. He just sat there in mid-air, staring at him expectantly, as if daring him to figure it out for himself.

"All this time, even when you spoke through the Librarian…you meant me? Why?" He demanded, anger flashing across his face.

The Wordsmith simply sighed, seemingly disappointed. _"Oh dear, Doctor, I thought that it might be obvious, what with that brilliant mind of yours."_

"Yeah, yeah, I get it! I'm very, very clever, but not clever enough to see who you really are. So just stop these games and tell me!"

"_Fair enough, Doctor, but I already have." _The Wordsmith glided away from him and in the direction of a dilapidated heap of metal on the floor. It looked to be several steel bars connected together and choked with wires – vaguely in the shape of a body. Only in scant locations, such as the arms, legs and a single point on the chest, was there any form of plating to cover the mess of tangles beneath. Immediately the Wordsmith looked in the direction of his arachnid servant, who until now had been stood there perfectly still, just watching. _"Have the drones repaired it?" _There was an edge of impatience in his voice, enough to make the other construct wriggle a bit with what must have been discomfort. All it gave was a quick, single nod.

Satisfied, the Wordsmith positioned himself over the top of the heap and started, somehow, to pull it up into a standing stance. It seemingly moved by itself, the gangly arms drooping along the floor like a gorilla's before eventually swinging at the body's sides. The Doctor knew, however, that what the Wordsmith was using was similar to the technology that held him captive. _"You remember that I said, quite literally just a minute beforehand, that 'I am the brain, and the centre of the mechanism?'" _He giggled, obviously quite amused with the idea that he was being cleverer than the Doctor. _"Well, that is truer than you might have originally thought, Doctor! After all, what is a brain, other than an organic computer?" _

Aghast, the Doctor watched as the orb that was the Wordsmith floated downwards to meet the base of the body's neck, a series of fine-tuned clicks signalling that the head had connected. The Doctor knew what was going to be revealed before the now gigantic construct before him had done anything. Still giggling under his breath, the Wordsmith gave an almighty hiss, not too dissimilar to the sound given off by a braking truck, as the silvery blue form of the orb split vertically in half, gradually revealing what was within. He literally was a brain. Sat in the centre, fleshy and wet, prodded and wreathed in wires and neural relays, was a brain, as grey as an overcast day.

The Doctor felt numb, no, _disgusted_ at what he saw. Organic life mixed with artificial technology, with the possibility of keeping him alive forever to stew in his insanity, tearing the universe apart at every delusional whim – it was wrong. The strangest thought was that he used to be a living, sentient being, probably very intelligent with an incredible talent, but nevertheless, perfectly sane. Time alone had obviously unhinged him, and the Doctor wondered how much choice he really had in becoming a metal giant. Suddenly, the bonds holding him in place seemed to fade away, and the Doctor found himself being able to stand up on his feet, albeit with a slight wobble. The Wordsmith treaded towards him in great thunderous steps, brain still exposed and the plates on his body shimmering with the same intricate patterns of the silver panelling found around the planet. He spoke, his voice strangely grave. _"I am you, Doctor. Not you, the person, but you, the species."_

The Doctor's reaction was initially a confused one, verging on panic, but with a seething anger boiling beneath the surface. "But you can't be! You're all dead! I committed to that act myself. I should know!"

"_So you should, Doctor, but I clearly said that I was one of the last of my kind. We both are the last."_His head immediately closed, the orb becoming one once again. Despite this, the Doctor did not find it any easier to talk with the robot – person – in front of him, now impossibly real. His head spun with disbelief, but he knew at that point that he was just as deluded as the Wordsmith.

"How did you escape the Time War?"

"_Escape? I do not remember…I was merely a child at the time…so young and very confused. I kn__ow not the details, the science or the meaning behind my parent's departure, but we simply left. What else matters to a child but the reassurance that they will live?" _The Wordsmith seemed to notice the fury flickering like a flame across the Doctor's face. _"I know what you are thinking, Doctor. You are thinking whether I brought you here for revenge or not, and whether I am taking out my grief on the universe." _He gave a small, almost depressed, titter. _"Do not fool yourself with such stupidity. Do you think I have time for petty grievances? I was working…until the true end of our race of course. Now I honour them."_

The Doctor pulled a disgusted face. "Yes. Honouring them by ripping apart creation! Is _that _what you call honour?"

"_Is it what YOU__ call honour, Doctor? I could quite easily turn that question on you. You admitted a mere moment ago that you destroyed our race."_

"To end the war! It would have ripped apart creation anyway, so I stopped it!" The Doctor was now seething. At that moment, nothing in the universe could make him falter in his belief that what he had done was right. All of the doubt over the years simply melted away in the face of the lunatic. "You should try it – standing there at the edge of the Great Cataclysm, planets ravaged by the time winds, and the vortex opening before you – would you have erased it?"

There was a long pause as the Wordsmith thought over the Doctor's words. Eventually he came to an answer. _"No. It is part of the universe's history, and does not deserve to be locked away. It would be the greatest of stories…if only I could reach it…"_

"_Why?_" The Doctor frantically shook his head, shocked and strangely awed at how far gone he really was. The Librarian had been right – he truly was beyond help, but still the Doctor pushed on through the insanity, trying to find some point that mellowed the Wordsmith's disturbing infatuation with reality. "What is it with you and these…_stories_? Is it really worth destroying everything?"

"_Yes, because I will never be alone again!"_

"Think about it for second! Once you've got everything in your grasp – trapped within this planet of yours – what are you going to do then?" He noticed the Wordsmith sit up at this, almost confused.

"_I will look upon it of course. Creation is mine."_

"But once you've seen everything, and trust me that will take until this planet has crashed down around your ears, what will you do then? You'll get bored. Nothing to do, no one to talk to, you'll be completely alone in an empty universe. Then what, hm?"

Silence.

"Unless you stop this now and send everyone back, you'll be on your own forever, and then no one can save you from it."

This was probably the wrong thing to say. The Wordsmith's light started to turn red again as he became more hostile, his voice contorting. _"Was that a threat, Doctor? Are you trying to bend me to your will?" _He took a step closer, bending down so that the fiery glow of his face was nearly pressed right up to the Doctor's. The rumble of his voice vibrated throughout his body, shaking even the floor with its pitch. _"Because I will tell you this, Doctor – I am much, much better than you, no matter how much I tried to idolise you as a great story in the past. I am the Wordsmith, chosen by my people before their final doom to spread hope; to bring them joy after what YOU did to them – to ME. YOU made me what I am, I am a monument to YOU, and still you cannot see that. Then you blatantly come after my world and threaten to destroy it? How many more, Doctor? I would have thought that one planet was enough!"_

The Doctor faced him valiantly, returning his mad gaze as calmly as his raging nerves could. "I'm not here to destroy the planet; there are far too many people and robots here worth saving. I'm here to stop you, and give you a chance."

"_What chance? We are one and the same, Doctor, no matter how different we look or approach things. We are both on our own – I offer you eternal life with me, so that we may never be alone again. You offer me – what? A chance to give up everything I have worked for and end my own life because you deem it wretched? I think not."_

At that point the arachnid construct was closing in on the Doctor, probably given some mute command by the Wordsmith. Talking had obviously finished. Instinctively, the Doctor dove into the inside pocket of his suit, pulling out the sonic screwdriver and pointing it at the head of the Wordsmith. There was a burst of sonic energy, surprisingly blinding as it hit…nothing. A blue shield erupted from the plating of his metal frame, deflecting the blast back into the sonic screwdriver.

It gave a short fizz as sparks flew from the end in a mini fireworks display, the Doctor dropping it from the electric shock. It wasn't broken, just shorted out, but now he knew that he was completely defenceless. By now, the Wordsmith's servant was upon him, the glowing gold spear radiating bright light that seemed to coil itself around him like a snake, once again rendering him paralysed. He was now on the floor, writhing around to try and find an escape that he knew was simply not there. The bonds tightened, restricting his breathing like it had the last time. Just as he saw black shadows creeping into his vision, the Wordsmith hunched over his prone body, looking at him…_apologetically? _The redness in his eye had gone – returned to its usual blue – but there was something else in his gaze, something sentient that couldn't be transcribed through an artificial face. It required expressions, but he did not have those, and so the Doctor found himself – despite his hatred for him in light of the recent revelations – pitying the creature, because he could never do anything like that again.

The Wordsmith spoke, his voice mellowed with what must have been the hollow compassion of an insane Time Lord. _"I'm sorry, Doctor, but this is the only way. Someday, you will understand why I do what I do."_

With those words, the Doctor passed out.

* * *

In a flash of brilliant light, the door that the Librarian had activated swirled open in a spiral, revealing a series of polished white steps that led down into a small room, barely big enough to accommodate one robot. He tingled with anticipation. There it was – the key to freedom – built into the computer that encircled the entire circumference of the room. _"This is it." _He said to the Cruncher, who was anxiously waiting at his heels, her engine giving off great clunks of nervous energy. _"It may take a few minutes to recalibrate it, because to be honest I'm not completely sure how it works. Keep watch for me, and if you see anything," _His voice dropped to a grim tone as he gave her a sideways glance. _"Then fight like you've never fought before."_

This time, the Cruncher didn't find his words very reassuring at all. She began to shake at the prospect of facing the same violence that she had in the cavern – having to fight in the dark, not knowing what it was she was hitting and knowing that at any moment she could be ripped apart – but nevertheless she took her position in front of the opening in the floor, waiting for something to come and threaten her master as he typed away at the console. For a moment she marvelled at the speed in which his delicately shaped fingers skimmed across the many symbols on the display, and the way his eyes completely focused on the task at hand. He knew exactly what he was doing, and she suddenly felt an unusual feeling sweep over her, certainly one that she had never experienced before. She felt trust, courage, and determination all at once, and so when she saw the mechanical beast with eight legs that furiously skidded into the control room, she did not falter.

It balanced itself with the spear, the end of the metal digging great gouges in the floor in an attempt to stop the bulky robot. Coming to a halt no more than a dozen metres away from her, its eyes just glared at the hole in the floor. It did not seem to care that there was another robot in front of it, claws raised in defence; there was just the protocol embedded deep within its mind to protect the place at any cost, and of course, to destroy the robot tampering with it from within. Then it charged with petrifying speed. Seconds before it impacted against her feeble frame, the Cruncher was terrified once more. The blow was so tremendous – so much more than she was – that the ferocity and skill behind the construct's power was bewildering. It had obviously realised by now that she was a hindrance to its plans, so it swept at her with the spear, ripping off centuries old equipment with a single swipe. She had no choice but to retaliate.

One of her largest claws – the one she usually reserved for destroying robots of this one's size – whipped out with a grating squeal and latched itself around one of its arms, the metal beneath warping and snapping under the immense pressure of being crushed. Now she could sense its fear. It was scared of her because it knew what she was, but this only made it fight harder. One more swipe with the spear rendered one of her other claws useless as it tried to get a grip around the robot's neck. In the next instant, she was sent reeling backwards by a blast of energy from the spear's glowing tip. Tracks moving without her, the Cruncher watched aghast as the construct turned its attention away from her and towards the hole the Librarian was working in. Before she could gather her senses, she noticed it reach down into the room, and with one hand pull out the struggling figure of the Librarian, so small in comparison to the fist that encompassed his entire middle.

For the first time, she heard it speak, the spear threateningly pointed in her direction. _"YOU WILL SUMBIT!" _It bellowed in a deep, furious tone.

The Cruncher had no choice – every move she made, be it the slight roll of a headlight or flicker of a claw, seemingly compelled the robot to squeeze even tighter around the Librarian's body. Trying not to move was impossible, as the terror that lit up his blue eyes manifested itself in her mainframe, forcing her to shake. With an awful feeling of hopelessness, she realised that he was going to be crushed in the vice-like grip of the arachnid construct, regardless of whether they both submitted or not. She might even be next. The robot confirmed her suspicions: _"ORDERS ARE SUMMARARY TERMINATION. YOU WILL NOT RESIST."_

Just as the Cruncher heard the first terrible crack of the Librarian's white chest plate splitting down the middle, another noise drowned it out. There was a wailing screech from somewhere nearby, but this was different from the usual ones they had heard in the caverns – this one was new and unformed, but still carrying that hint of monstrous brutality that set the Cruncher's tracks on edge. She wanted to run, but the sight of the Librarian, the closest friend she had right now, was enough to keep her where she was. Alarmed by the sound, the robot that held the Librarian like a limp rag-doll forgot its orders for a moment, but that was all the time they needed.

The room was suddenly flooded with wet, glistening bodies, covered in slime so putrid that it made the grease covering the Cruncher's metal frame seem lovely. Sharndrix; hordes of them, but these were tiny, fresh, and only recently hatched. Some must have been no more than a minute old, and still covered in the residue of their birth. Already, their ferocity was shocking. The more there were that swarmed, the more savage they became, climbing the legs and eventually the torso of the Wordsmith's bodyguard, their sharp teeth feebly trying to gouge out the metal in a mad bid to get inside it. The Cruncher surged forwards through the fray, knocking aside any that tried to attack her and squishing a lot of them under her tracks. The room was suddenly a wild spray of orange blood and chaotic screeches. For at least a minute she searched the floor to try and find the Librarian under the mass of bodies, avoiding the flailing limbs of the robot as it tried to fight off the insects.

Then, just as she was starting to panic, she saw him crawling towards the hole in the floor, swinging his fists at anything that tried to maul him. His job was not yet done. The Cruncher reached out with a claw to scoop the weakening robot up and placed him at the foot of the computer console in the underground room. The insect horde grew stronger with each passing second, and like a plague of mad rats latched themselves onto anything they deemed to have life. Evidently, that included the Cruncher's rusted form. She could feel no pain as their teeth tore at the metal, this much was obvious, but a great feeling of despair overwhelmed her when she realised that eventually they would tear her apart. She could do nothing about it. Her wild swings were becoming almost as frantic as the arachnid robot's, who had resorted to rolling about the floor in a fit of uncontrollable frenzy. Meanwhile the Librarian typed away at the console with just one hand – the other was feverishly clutching one side of his broken chest. A clear liquid seemed to spill from a particularly gaping gap, seeping over his hand and dripping to the floor to form a small puddle.

Then it came. The algorithm unlocked, and a hatch opened up above the console to reveal a circular blue light; the neural command relay, in all of its frankly unimpressive majesty, was just a lump of glowing machinery sitting in a cupboard underground. But its vitality to his plans urged him onwards. With one mighty gasp, the Librarian wrenched it from its resting place, pulling apart wires and nodes that had been untouched for millennia. There was a fizz of sparks, the computer console blanking out into nothingness, and then the inevitable scream in his head as the rage of the Wordsmith realised his control over everything had come to an end.

All at once, every construct on the planet had torn off their leashes to run free.


	15. Fourteen

**Note: **Well here it is people, the next chapter and one step closer to the end. I've spent most of this one exploring the character of Jenny further, and setting her up (well, sort of hinting really) for what her future holds. So yes, I basically plan to write a spin-off series after this called 'AngelWing'. I'm sure that I've mentioned it before but HEY, EXCITEMENT? I know that Jenny is pretty much old news now in the Doctor Who world but her character is so important yet so amazingly unwritten that anyone can come along and turn her into what they want her to be. Think of the potential! I've also experimented slightly with my writing style so that I can move the story along quicker whilst retaining the same kind of quality throughout. I hope that it works and that it hasn't made the story sound rushed. Honestly, I wrote a whole five pages in a day so I must be doing _something _right? Please tell me if I'm not. Cheers and enjoy reading!

* * *

**Fourteen**

**The Wake of Devastation**

For the past five minutes now the Wordsmith had wondered what to do. At his feet, still unconscious from the spear's immobilising ray, was the Doctor, pale and wretched looking from his arduous ordeal. Part of him didn't want this. He didn't want to hurt the one thing in the universe that he craved: a great story, and not only that but the greatest story ever told, but the Doctor's constant refusal to understand threw him into a rage. In a moment of rare clarity, the Wordsmith realised his mistake. _"Wait!" _He called to his robotic servant, practically wrenching the spear out of its hands. _"There is no need to kill him. Have I not said this before?" _

Immediately the ray of light that encircled the Doctor receded into nothing. With a small gasp for breath, his eyes lazily flickered open, barely long enough to take in more than a shy glimpse of what would unfold.

The Wordsmith felt it first; a shock of complete and sudden emptiness in his mind that the space that was left sent him reeling for a moment, dizzy with desolation. Then came the reaction of his bodyguard. The robot's head gave an erratic shake, blue sparks flying from it before settling into a strange calm. Its head turned slowly from left to right, looking at the Doctor and then at the Wordsmith.

"_A-A-A…"_ It mumbled in a deep, crackly voice, head tilting from one side to the other as if it was trying to work something out in its mind.

The Wordsmith recovered himself, suddenly desperate as he realised what had happened. Eye glowing red, he furiously pointed one of his metal fingers in the direction of the bodyguard, something akin to a cannon sliding out with a click from beneath his plate armour. _"You will OBEY!" _He commanded in a voice dripping with menace, but the robot before him didn't seem to care.

Its head suddenly snapped round to look at him, the single strip of eye it had burning with anger, fury, revenge; the ferocity inside was somehow more than the Wordsmith's would ever be, as if it was the sum of every robot he had ever designed. He looked down at the chest plate of his former servant. There was a hole in its black armour, melted away by the laser cannon he was brandishing right at this moment. They could feel; remember everything he had ever done to them and worst of all, act upon it.

"_ATTACK." _It finally said, launching itself at its master without a second thought.

The Wordsmith rolled backwards, joints cracking under the strain of the stronger robot's assault. His laser cannon blindly fired several bolts into the bodyguard, shearing off two of its legs and catching the side of its head with a lucky hit. The molten metal ran down the rest of its head, creating a twisted, skull-shaped face that leered over him and seemed to grin with a sick kind of joy.

Suddenly the spear was in its hand, raised above the Wordsmith's head and ready to strike. One definite blow with a wave of energy could quite easily have damaged the vulnerable cradle that held his brain, possibly even destroyed it. Desperation fed his strength. The Wordsmith lurched his weapon arm up against the weight of the leg pinning it. A joint snapped with a pang, the robot staggering backwards just enough to let him hold onto his useless arm and aim it at the spear tip. The bolt of blue energy hit with a deafening boom, a single, mighty explosion bursting from the spear and engulfing the robot in ferocious fire and light. The Wordsmith had detached from his now destroyed body in time to fly clear, watching as his former servant imploded in on itself – core drive from the teleport beacon in its chest destabilising and ripping the body apart. Within seconds it was a pile of smoking metal on the floor, and the spear was no more.

The skirmish was over, but the Wordsmith began to panic more than ever. Nothing was his anymore. Everything he had ever worked for was all too suddenly being pulled from beneath him, and he knew who was to blame. He had heard the order screamed – weak and desperate though it was – in his head. The order for every construct on the planet to attack _him _had come from the Librarian, and that meant that he was still alive, either that close to the end of his existence. This time the Wordsmith would end it himself. Anger and fear mingling into one unique, confusing emotion, he looked to the man on the floor – the one thing of his that remained – to preserve him until things had returned to normal and control was restored.

But as he turned, he saw that the Doctor was gone.

* * *

"But it's destroyed." Donna gazed at the downed ship as it spat smoke and fire into the bright dawn, marring the clear skies of a new day. "How can it attack Earth now?"

Jack had been pacing the room like a mad wolf, incessantly rubbing the back of his head as if it would ease his agitation. "It can't," he finally concluded. "It's stuck here like us."

For a while Jude's eyes had lingered solemnly on the holographic keyboard at his fingertips, half-heartedly watching the keys spin and oscillate in their own little dance. He mumbled something under his breath; "It has to go back."

His comment made Jack's head snap round in horror. "What?"

"It has to go back," he repeated, louder this time as he became surer of himself.

"How can you say that?"

"You and I both heard what that Doctor and the Librarian said, Jack: this needs to stop! Everybody trapped in this place needs to go free, and that includes _them_, no matter what they did." He continued as Jack's face remained blank. "What if it's meant to happen? It can't just stay here, stuck in time, and change history!"

"He's right, it will change history." Everyone jumped at the new yet familiar voice that entered the room, spinning around to see, standing in the doorway, hair a dishevelled mess and looking more haggard than usual, the Doctor. The bottoms of his eyes looked slightly grey and sunken, and his skin had an unusual paleness about it, but all in all he seemed unharmed. Donna rushed to greet his relieved smile, hugging his skinny frame like there was no tomorrow. "How did you escape?" She asked, beaming. She only let him go so that he could reply.

"Oh, you know…what I usually do in those situations." He seemed reluctant to say anymore, instantly changing the subject. "Although, my problems seem like nothing when you look at what's been happening here," he nodded in the direction of the destroyed robots in the corridor behind them, gazing incredulously at the odd spark that flew from the wreckage. "What on Earth were you going to do with them, sell their parts as spare scrap?"

Nobody answered his question. Jenny looked away from the remains of the robots, innocently, as if they weren't even there.

"That's not the point, Doctor," Jorena barged her way past Donna with those awkwardly long arms of hers, ushering the Doctor towards the control keyboard that Jude was still trying to understand. "Can you work this? The human lad has tried, bless him, but so far to no great avail."

Jude looked offended. "You're lucky I could do anything at all you miserable green trout!"

"Yes, yes, I'm sure," she said, not really caring that he had just insulted her appearance, "now get out of the way and let the Doctor take a look."

Jude found himself being roughly shoved to one side by the Slitheen's claws, rather embarrassingly bumping into Jack who just gave a nasty scowl.

In a flash the Doctor's specs were on; Donna often wondered whether he needed them at all, or whether he wore them just to look clever. His face lit up with recognition when he saw the symbols on the keyboard, a joyous and slightly cheeky grin forming as if they were someone he hadn't seen for years. "Ha! Now this I can work with!"

"What are they?" Jack asked eagerly, desperate to remember where he had seen them before.

"Gallifreyan – it's the Gallifreyan language." He looked at Jack, surprised. "Don't you remember – in the TARDIS – all those years ago?"

Jack shrugged, "I do now that you mention it, but my memories that far back are faded. Four hundred and sixty-odd years is a long time," he grinned, a brief moment of happiness flooding his face, "and believe me, a lot has happened in that time to make me forget."

"Why isn't the TARDIS translating it?" Donna asked.

"It sort of is." The Doctor began to type commands into the console, his fingers dancing with the spinning keys as he made light work of the information that buzzed before him. "The TARDIS is Gallifreyan so it recognises this as its default language, therefore it doesn't need to translate."

"But I speak English!" Donna complained, "You mean to say that your ship thinks I speak Time Lord as well?"

The Doctor bit his lip, slightly embarrassed. "Um…yeah, pretty much."

Donna sighed at him, mouth agape in horror at suddenly learning that his precious TARDIS wasn't all it was cracked up to be. The Doctor immediately got very defensive, voice getting higher in pitch as it always did when he got in the slightest bit annoyed. "That's not the point though Donna! We're here to rescue people trapped in time, not criticise each other's modes of transport!" The last button he had pressed on the holo-keyboard released something from the ceiling of the room with a gentle click, a cylindrical column gliding downwards to meet the floor. It glowed with a familiar azure light.

"That's a data-bank," Jack observed, stepping closer to inspect the numerous computers that encircled the column. All at first appeared to be dormant, but soon sparked into life when they had had time to boot up. They looked as if they hadn't been used in years, centuries perhaps.

The Doctor looked pleased to see them, skipping up to a console and typing away on its keypad. "It's not just any data-bank Jack – the one the Librarian showed us was tiny, one in a million, compared to this – thisone is connected to every data-bank on the planet, and with _this_," he pulled out what seemed to be a small motherboard from his suit's pocket, using the sonic screwdriver to feverishly and haphazardly meld it into the system, "I can override the authority codes and take control from here."

"It's that easy?" Jude looked amazed, intrigued and jealous all at the same time; the advanced technology obviously piqued his curiosity yet the Doctor's superior understanding of it all trounced his own.

"Well, it is when you have the Librarian's neural command chip," the Doctor replied as the central data-bank hissed in response to being meddled with. "He should be feeling a bit better now…"

Jenny had been restlessly pacing the room, bored with standing around and waiting. As soon as she felt that she could get a word in edgeways she rushed up to her father, desperate for something to do. "Can any of us help?"

The Doctor, half-preoccupied with banging the command chip against the console to get it to work, was caught slightly by surprise. "W-what? Oh, yes…maybe…but it's a bit dangerous so –"

"Oh, well that's alright then," she said simply, cutting him off mid-sentence. "I was afraid it was going to be boring."

Jack laughed, waving a finger at her approvingly. "I like this girl's attitude! What do you want us to do?"

As he had asked the question the command chip illuminated with a green glow, the computer screens suddenly racing with numbers and symbols that only the Doctor himself seemed able to read. Things were finally working.

"Ideally I need someone to do a bit of clean-up for me," he began, glancing sideways at the scene of carnage outside the window.

Donna caught the shy look, horrified. "No?"

"Yes."

"What are we doing?" Jenny asked, confused.

The Doctor didn't seem to hear her. He spun on his heels to face Donna, whose face was slowly falling to the floor with shock. "We haven't got a lot of options. The Sharndrix aren't in the data-banks, so we can't get them back to their time any other way. The same goes for the rest of you in here."

"How are we going to do it?" Jenny pushed, frustrated that her questions weren't being answered.

"The equipment is simple." The Doctor raced out of the control centre and into the smoking hallway, practically plunging into the ruined corpses of the robots. One was still in relatively good condition, and everyone could see straight away what he was searching for. The top half of him buried in the chest of the robot, a few buzzes of the sonic screwdriver released a large ring of metal, snaked in wires and tubes.

Jenny instantly recognised it. "That's what made the glowing light I saw when they were attacking us. I tried to look at it but…" she shuddered for a moment, hugging herself with her arms. "It felt wrong."

"No wonder," the Doctor replied as he heaved himself and the part out of the robot, returning to the others. "This is a larger version of a teleport beacon, leading directly into the data-cores. Get sucked into one of these and you might as well be in the Wordsmith's grasp."

"So you're going to reverse it?"

"Exactly!" The Doctor was already running the screwdriver across its surface. "But this is just the easy part. Using the beacon will send whatever comes into contact with it back where they belong – problem solved on that front." The beacon began to glow, the greenish light starting to ripple and return around the rim. Eventually it spread to encompass the centre, the air itself seeming to vibrate around its power. "The hard part," and the Doctor looked at everyone solemnly as he said it, "is that somebody needs to go out there and use it, and that means getting up close to the Sharndrix horde."

Jack shrugged. "No problem. I can do that easy enough."

"That's not all. This alone is not enough to send back all of the Sharndrix _and _their ship. It needs another source of powerful energy to be able to handle a load so big. I was thinking of the transmitter on the hill."

Jorena sneered, already doubting the plan. "But that's ages away from where the crash site is. There's no way you'd stretch cables from the beacon to there."

The Doctor smiled, a devilish grin that said he had something else in mind. "Who said anything about cables?"

Rooting deep in his pockets, the Doctor produced two small, silver boxes, simple and unassuming to look at. "They're remotely connected to each other. Any energy that one comes into contact with will transfer to the other, powering whatever equipment they are attached to."

"And they'll work over that distance?" Jorena asked doubtfully, blinking at the boxes as if she was a judge examining a talent act.

"They should do."

"_Should _do?"

"Well, they're old but they still work, and they were pretty good in their day."

Jack folded his arms. "None of that sounds reassuring."

The Doctor leaned forward, voice quiet and apologetic. "Unfortunately, it's the best we have." With that he attached one of the boxes to the beacon's rim, activating it. The other he handed to Jenny, hesitantly placing it in the square of her palm. "Don't drop it," was all he could say, barely meeting her eyes. It looked awkward, and Jenny's sad, puzzled face didn't make it any easier, but Donna knew with a heavy heart that he was only thinking about what he was eventually sending her back to. The Doctor then gave Jack the beacon, showing him how to hold and use it. "Whatever you do, do _not _touch the light yourself, or you'll end up going back to your time when we still need you."

"Don't worry," he briefly shot a sideways glance at Jude, who didn't seem to notice the jibe being inflicted on him. "I don't abandon my friends."

Moments later and they were ready to go. Jarg refused to leave both Jack and Jenny, puffing up his chest with pride and claiming that he needed to defend them with his life. Until then he had been unusually silent, watching the turn of events with an insatiable curiosity or licking his wounds like a cat. Now he was back to his former self, giving a gruff chuckle as Jenny smiled kindly at him. As they left, carefully taking their place in the partly smashed floor of the elevator, the Doctor uncertainly called out to them from the control centre, eyes unable to fall on anyone in particular. "Be careful."

Jack nodded grimly, pressing his hand against the bulbous button that set the elevator in motion. "You too, Doctor."

Then they slid away out of sight. The last thing the Doctor saw as he stole a sideways glance from the computers was his daughter's face, neutral; eyes intensely scouting the side of his head for some measure of warmth.

The elevator's hasty descent left her defeated.

* * *

She was so angry that she felt like kicking something. Eventually she found the victim; an empty canister that probably once held some form of gas. It cannoned off the end of her boot and clanged deafeningly against the opposite wall, narrowly missing Jack. Taken completely by surprise he jumped back, spinning around to meet the thunderous face of Jenny. They were fast approaching the primary control centre, and thankfully had not encountered any trouble so far. He had gone over their plan of action with her and Jarg several times, meticulously describing each part of it to make sure they understood what they had to do. The only response he had gotten from her was an uninterested 'hm' at every point he made, and Jack could only assume that she was good at taking in information. Now, however, she was like a sudden explosion of fury, fists clenched as if she was about to strike someone. "He's such a…a…" She thought for a moment, searching for the right word to finish the seething tirade that spat off her lips. "A _dick!_" Another canister, equally as innocent, went bouncing across the floor.

Whereas Jarg had cowered away from her, confused at her sudden outburst, Jack moved closer, placing a hand on her shoulder. "What is it?"

Jenny glared at him, still furious. "How could you _not_ know? Have you seen the way he _looks _at me; _talks_ to me?"

"Who?"

"My _father! _Who else?" One lonely tear began to wind its way down her right cheek, a stark contrast with the red fury that still burned in them. "He acts like he doesn't even _want_ to know me! I try to be what he wants but nothing _works!_" Her last words came out as gasps and sobs, obviously bottled up and locked away inside her for some time. Jack didn't really know how to respond. Part of him was awestruck that someone like the Doctor – prone to getting into trouble though he was – even had a daughter. Ideas fluttered through his mind as to when and how this occurred, and more importantly, how he never knew. He pushed these thoughts aside. This was serious; he had an angry, crying girl before him who needed comfort. How he was going to give it, however, was a wild stab in the dark.

"Jenny, you should just be yourself."

Her tear-filled, child-like eyes looked up at his for some kind of explanation to what he had said, the flush of anger draining away from her face.

"Trying to be someone you're not is only going to drive you insane. If people don't like who you are then don't take it out on yourself. Turn a blind eye. It's their problem after all." Jack kind of surprised himself with his words. They seemed to flow off of his tongue naturally. Anxiously, he waited for a response. Jenny wiped the tears from her eyes, eventually allowing herself a smile. It was small, weak, but there. "Thank you. For a man I almost killed you're really nice to me."

Jack smiled back, turning away to continue their march to the primary control centre. Jenny's next words startled him. "You sound like you've had children yourself."

It was meant to be a harmless comment, not a question, but Jack found himself answering it anyway, confiding in a girl he barely knew. "I have." As they walked on through the vaulted beams of several service corridors, Jack swore that he saw a flash of a shadow in the distance, hopping between the crates and other bits of maintenance equipment. Something about it seemed almost ethereal, instantly putting him on edge.

Jenny didn't seem to notice, revelling in feeling more cheery than usual. "What about you Jarg?" She smiled at the lumbering beast, her voice cutting the routine tread of their footsteps with deafening clarity. "Do you have any children?"

Just as the Yuluxian shook his horned head, Jack stopped in his tracks, holding up a clenched fist. Jenny instantly recognised it as the universal military way of saying _stop_.

"_There's something ahead of us," _Jack whispered, pointing vaguely at a dark corner that was stacked high with metal boxes. The place suddenly plunged into complete silence. Jenny strained to see beyond the shadows, trying to pick out random shapes and sew them together with her mind. At first she thought that Jack was lying, trying to scare her. Then she heard it. Something heavy shifted from behind the crates, brittle material scraping against the metal. Her hearts raced, realising the tight situation they were in.

Their only way out was through the arch next to the crates, and that exit was narrow enough. There was plenty of cover with scattered pieces of equipment and more of the same crates, but if whatever stalked them was fast and wasn't afraid of melee combat then cover would be near enough pointless. Suddenly the crates in the corner fell to the floor with a deafening crash. Jack whipped out his gun, aiming it at the cacophony of noise. There was nothing. The corner, now bare and exposed to the dull lights of the corridor, was empty. _"Shit," _he swore, bounding back to grab Jenny by the arm, the teleport beacon hanging around one of his shoulders. Not so gently he began to drag her towards the exit, fingers squeezing and pinching her skin a little harder than she would have liked. Jack kept his gun trained on the space to the right of them, trying to hug the left wall as best as it would allow him.

"What is it?" Jenny asked, voice wavering with the first signs of fear.

An irritated hiss, long and drawn out, seemed to confirm this for her. It appeared out of nowhere, teeth, claws and ridged scales materialising impossibly close to them. In a split second one of Jarg's fists pummelled into the creature's throat, sending it reeling backwards into more crates. It was a Sharndrix, one of the large flying ones that had attacked them back in the cavern. This one, however, was seemingly more intelligent. It was carrying a weapon, familiar orange liquid swirling in the glass ammunition. The plates of its exoskeleton shimmered with a fractured silver light. Jenny realised as the insect got up, hissing a furious rebuke, that it was some form of camouflage. Almost instantly it disappeared into nothingness again.

"Keep moving!" Jack ordered, pushing Jenny ahead of him and firing blind shots anywhere in the hope that he would hit it. By chance, he clipped the Sharndrix's body, causing the camouflage to fail for a moment. It was hovering above them, wings a dizzying blur as it fought to recover from the shot. Jack pounded the gun's entire clip into it whilst he still could. Squealing in pain and outrage, the insect's camouflage shattered altogether, bright splashes of orange blood coating the walls and floor. Eventually it fell with a lifeless thump to the ground, jaws still wide open in what could have been horror.

Jack quickly and expertly reloaded his gun, more frantic than ever now. "We've got to hurry. More will be on their way soon."

Shrill shrieks in the far distance proved him correct. All three of them ran through the corridors now, knowing that every furious cry they heard was getting closer with each passing second. Jenny, despite being terrified out of her mind, had never felt so alive. She wanted to run – needed to – as if the blood pumping like a wild river through her veins was the only thing that kept her breathing. She was almost disappointed when they had to stop. The corridor had swept round to the right and left them facing a sealed bulkhead door, a red light lazily flashing at them; mocking, as if it already knew their fate.

Jack's face sunk like a stricken ship. "I remember this door. The Librarian deadlocked it to stop me and the Doctor following him."

"Not a great idea in hindsight."

"You can say that again. There's no way through."

Jenny paced back and forth, still feeling the thrill of running for her life shivering through her legs. Desperately she tried to think, to shut out the cries of the Sharndrix pursuing their scent. "Is there a way around?"

Jack looked around at the end of the corridor; there was another door but it was deadlocked as well, and certainly there were no obvious signs of a ventilation system they could crawl through. The walls were bleak and clinical. "Apparently not, and I'm not so keen about going back." He grimaced at the shrieks that reverberated around the walls, seemingly coming at them from all directions.

"We could hack into it?" Jenny raced over to a panel next to the door that glowed with the same denying red light. Jack watched, amazed, as she literally grabbed the edges of the panel and started to pull with all of her strength. The screen flickered as if annoyed, but the rest defiantly refused to buckle.

"I'll do it!" Jarg called, excited that there was something he could do. The great beast hopped ungracefully towards the panel like an overgrown child and simply ripped the whole thing off with one paw, grinning at the wires that dangled from the chunk of metal. _At least someone was happy about this situation, _Jack thought with a nervous smile.

The door shuddered and opened just a crack, allowing a restricted view into the room beyond. Sounds of screeching blasted them in the face like a shockwave surging out of a constrictive prison. It was momentarily ear-splitting, desperate, as if whatever was making it was crying out for help.

With a lurch in his stomach, Jack recognised it. The cry was from Sharndrix young, calling for their parents. Through the gap he could just about see hundreds, maybe thousands of them crawling over what appeared to be two large robots. The screams of anger from the passages behind them grew with fresh ferocity.

"You need to get this open _now!" _He shouted to Jenny over the chaos, taking a defensive stance behind her. This time he had the beacon in his hands, its green light starting to power up and encompass the circular object.

Jenny's thumbs worked like demons to alter the guts of the keypad, but the door still didn't move. "I'm trying my best!" She replied, frantic as much as she was offended. Less than a minute passed before the first adult Sharndrix rounded the corner, leaping at Jack with what seemed to be smug satisfaction at an easy kill. Its triumphant roar quickly turned to a shriek of surprise as it fell into the beacon's gaping light, swallowed into the time-stream. Another followed shortly after, screaming at its undoing, until there was a whole flood of the creatures piling up on top of each other at the corner of the corridor. Jarg desperately shielded Jenny, punching any insect that got too close. Jack just held the beacon out at arms length in front of him, moving it from left to right to keep them at bay. They were wary now, hissing with annoyance at the greedy green light that ate them.

Some tried to scramble over the wall of others, testing the beacon before recoiling in horror from its rays, squealing and retreating to the back of the pack. Suddenly the door to the control centre flew fully open.

"I've done it!" Jenny exclaimed, more amazed with her own abilities than relieved.

"Great, now take my gun."

She spun round to see Jack holding the gun out to her, his other hand still anxiously clutching the beacon. It was then that she noticed the sheer number of Sharndrix there were, stacked up one on top the other like a house of cards. Except this house was resolute. They sat there…_staring _with soulless eyes…completely silent. She shivered, taking the cold gun from Jack.

"Watch my back," he said, slowly moving backwards. "I'll make sure this lot don't go anywhere."

Jenny could only comply. They had no other choice. The control room had also taken on an air of deathly silence, the floor littered with the squished, mangled corpses of Sharndrix young, their scaly green bodies coated in blood. It was like a massacre had taken place. There was another body as well, much larger than anything else. She noticed that under the tide of insect larvae, it was a robot like the ones she had blown up earlier, but this one had been ripped apart from the inside out, choked by the vicious little brutes. Jenny thought that everything in the room was dead, but a squeak of metal drew her attention. Sat in the centre, her headlights gazing down at what looked to be the entrance to an underground room, was the blood-splattered, monstrous shape of the Cruncher. Slowly her headlights turned to face Jenny, shocked and maybe a little bit scared to realise that somebody had entered the room.

Jack didn't dare take his eyes off of the Sharndrix before him. Every step he took, they equalled by scuttling further forwards. Nevertheless he was puzzled by the silence. "What's happened?"

"That robot's here – the Cruncher – she's killed all of the Sharndrix young by the looks of it."

The Cruncher replied with a sad sigh that seemed to rattle the very floor itself. Almost disappointed, she turned her gaze back to the room underground.

"Is the Librarian with her?" Jack called. He was growing nervous now as the Sharndrix became braver, trying to skirt around him and attack at the flank. He was suddenly glad for Jarg being there, his four huge fists clenched and ready to strike any who dared to try.

Jenny stepped cautiously over to where the Cruncher was sulking, trying not to upset the robot any further. A weak, metallic cough arose from the hole in the ground. Peering down into it, she could see the prostrate form of the Librarian, his body leaking a foul smelling liquid. The poor robot was trying to crawl up the steps to get out of the room underground, but weakness overcame him. He collapsed, giving off what seemed to be his last gasp of life. The Cruncher, grief-stricken, used one of her claws to lift him out of the hole and place him on the ground before her. His once bright blue eyes had gone out, a black emptiness consuming them. He was just a robot but Jenny felt a tear come to her eye. He looked so pitiful, so helpless.

"I think he's dead, Jack." No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't contain the sadness in her voice.

"_I am complete." _

The metallic voice, unformed and new, surprised them all. The Librarian's body appeared dead but something inside him must have still been working. His mouth flickered with a weak light, the sound waves passing over them with extreme difficulty.

_"I have done what I intended to do, so I can end my existence knowing that I was worth something at least."_

"You thought you were worthless?" Jenny asked softly, part of her wondering why she was getting so emotional over the dying words of a robot, and the other part kicking her for thinking of something so cruel. He was practically _alive. _He needed closure.

"_I have spent so long serving a false God. I have never known freedom. I was always a monument to him…but now it is gone. I am not worthless anymore, remember that."_

"Of course I will. You have fought for us – helped us."

The Librarian's voice became more monotone, his personality seemingly draining away with every passing moment. _"You must do the same."_

"I am. We've got a plan."

"_Not now. Later, I mean. I cannot remember when, but I see shapes of your future – gifts imparted upon me by my former master – and there is much fighting, and much running. You will find friends and you will lose them. Such is the way of the universe."_

Jenny frowned, confused, scared and intrigued at the same time. Shadows played across her face even with the bright lights from above shining down on her. "What do you mean?"

A cry of help from Jack distracted her. The Sharndrix were steadily amassing an army at the mouth of the corridor, and they were getting bolder by the second. It was only a matter of time before they realised that – beacon be damned – they could overwhelm Jack and Jarg together.

"Jenny!" He practically screamed over the growing hum of hisses. "We've got to go now – to the surface!"

She nodded at him, unashamedly half-hearted. When she turned back to the Librarian, however, he was gone. She called his name several times but cold silence was the only response she got from his barren shell. Gritting her teeth and mustering the last reserves of determination she had, she looked at the Cruncher, who had taken to chugging silently in her sadness. "Will you help us? Please? We could use someone strong like you."

The battered robot's headlights turned between Jenny and Jack, then the Librarian's crumpled form again. She gave a defeated sigh that rattled her entire rusting body.

"Do it for him," Jenny said as kindly as she could, pointing to the robot at her feet.

At these words, something stirred within the grotesque, frankly frightening robot. She sat up taller on her caterpillar tracks, engines pumping with new life that had surely been there all along. Now it was released, coursing through her systems and evoking an energy so powerful that the Cruncher found herself swivelling around and charging the Sharndrix. The insects had almost completely encircled Jack and Jarg, prowling around them like hungry panthers waiting for the perfect moment to strike. They were more than a little shocked to see a claw-wielding robot usurp them.

The Cruncher charged into their ranks, sending at least half of the group sprawling across the room. The stack of Sharndrix in the corridor, once so strong and resolute, fell to the ground like a pack of cards, tumbling over each other or falling into the jaws of the robot. Jack and Jarg ran, taking Jenny with them. The elevator that took them to the surface was just sitting there on the other side of the room, as if waiting patiently for someone to arrive. The Cruncher had taken her role as protector very seriously. The acid blood that she shed was melting her bodywork, her claws bubbling and contorting with every one that she killed, but still she kept on, never relenting. The Sharndrix army only grew stronger. More poured out of the corridor, two or even three replacing every one that was slain.

In the end, feeling braver than she ever had but not wanting to die herself, the Cruncher was forced to back off from the ever-increasing horde. Her jaw and claws were choked with the body parts of the insects, their decapitated heads, severed limbs and plucked wings smearing her in an alien gore. She heard the others behind her, beckoning for her to come in the elevator with them. The one glance she spared saw that she would barely fit, but she had to try. She felt her tracks connect with the slight bump of the elevator's entrance, and then, as if by magic, she slipped in, pushing her friends up against the side walls. The metal door came across and they were away, the sounds of scrabbling and frustrated shrieks becoming more and more distant until it eventually went silent.

Jack, Jenny and Jarg struggled to regain control over their ragged breaths, not only because of the near-death experience but also because the elevator started to smell of the sickly blood that the Cruncher was coated in. She didn't seem to notice the Sharndrix head still skewered on one of her claws, and the fact that it was dangling a little to close for comfort for Jenny.

"The surface will be worse," Jack said out of the blue, and not very reassuringly. The confrontation with the Sharndrix had apparently unnerved him, his eyes still wide with the aftershock of it all. "There'll be more of them and less cover for us."

"How cheery." Jenny replied sarcastically.

Jack shrugged. "Just being honest. You'll be at the beacon straight away, so just wait for the signal to be sent through the transmitter and then activate the energy transponder. Jarg will be there to help you defend it if needs be."

Jarg smiled proudly. "You can always rely on Jarg!" His juvenility was a stark contrast with the seriousness of the situation. It was a do or die thing, and he obviously didn't quite grasp that. Nevertheless, Jenny found his jovial attitude somewhat reassuring, so she had no choice but to give him a weak, understanding smile back.

Suddenly the elevator opened up to reveal the bright morning sky, white fluffy clouds dancing across it like celestial angels. Jenny looked around, gob-smacked. The cool breeze in her hair, the way the grass seemed to bend and shake at its every whim, the trees that stood tall and proud; she had never seen anything like it before. All she had in her mind was tunnels, endless tunnels with bricks and mortar and meaningless bits of metal. That was her world. _This…_it was alien but beautiful, full with life and a thousand different places to explore. The three suns in the sky were absolutely blinding to the point that she couldn't look at them.

Jack noticed her wonder. "Never been to the surface before?"

She shook her head, speechless. When she had pictured a surface, she had always imagined it being dark, inhospitable and dangerous. These were the images she was born with, after all. But this was perfect. She briefly thought about asking her dad to bring her to another world like this, but then she remembered what he was like and forgot about it. She was better off alone.

Her awe was also dampened by what Jack pointed out on the horizon. There was an ugly black cloud marching its way in their direction, the wispy plumes snaking outwards like a clawed hand trying to grab them. The source was obvious. Just beyond the tree-line was a gouge made in the very planet itself, mud, turf and trees churned up and cast aside on both sides of the massive scar. Beyond that was the shape of the purple ship, so distant yet foreboding to behold as it tipped up at an impossible angle. "That's where I'm going," Jack said simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world to walk towards a disaster. "I'll be ready with the beacon, so it's really up to the Doctor now. Let's hope he gets that transmitter working quickly."

"Me too," she whispered under her breath as he walked off with the Cruncher at his heels, her wonder of the surface probably outmatching Jenny's by far. She then remembered that it was probably the courteous thing to say by wishing them luck. "Good luck!" she called out. "And be careful!"

He turned, flashing a huge smile at her. "When am I never?"

With that he was swallowed up into the distance, right into the wake of the devastation.


	16. Fifteen

**Note: **Sorry again for taking so long to update - I've had exams and lots of revision to do so this was finished later than I expected. I also get the sense when reading through this that it is very rushed (probably because I'm so close to the end and desperate to finish lol) but overall I'm happy with where I'm taking the story so I can't complain too much! Hope you all enjoy!

* * *

**Fifteen**

**A House Divided…**

The secondary control centre had become a sea of wires and cables. Donna felt like a ship lost in a storm, struggling to find a place amongst the rolling waves of technology as it was violently tossed around the room in a panic. The Doctor and Jude had practically ganged together, one trying to outdo the other in an apparent battle of knowledge; the Doctor's universal understanding against Jude's unorthodox theories. It was obvious that Jude was losing. He was quickly being told to attach a bunch of cables here, and then hold his finger down on a button there, making it perfectly clear that the Doctor was in charge. Still, both men seemed to be enjoying themselves, so Donna let them get on with it. Jorena was hovering around the Doctor like an oversized fly, asking him ceaseless questions about her quandary with her four dead brothers whenever he wasn't occupied. Thankfully for all of their ears, that wasn't often.

After almost an hour of frenzied re-wiring and searching for power sources, the Doctor at last stood back and viewed his handiwork, apparently satisfied. "That should work."

"_Should _work?" Jude looked up from screwing cables into a computer mainframe, surprised. "There's three people out there relying on this plan of yours."

"I know." The Doctor's face was grim, his brow furrowed with concern. "But it's all we have."

Donna still wasn't fully aware of what this plan entailed. The one or two questions she had asked had been skimmed over because of how busy they had been. "So what is this transmitter then?" she asked, carefully stepping over the snaking wires as she paced around the room. Anxiety gripped her heart like never before. "What was it designed to do?"

The Doctor seemed paler than usual, and his enthusiasm for explaining technology had suddenly dampened. "The Wordsmith used it to transmit stories to another world – many perhaps. He would create them with his…" he hesitated for a moment, voice lowering, "…mind…and store them in the data banks. Every one of them is connected to the transmitter."

Jude nodded, suddenly understanding. "So the transmitter is the only way to send the people inside back?"

"Yes. This silver alloy that the planet seems to be made of must be some kind of conducting material, strengthening any signal passed through it." He shook his head, amazed and possibly quite sad. "I've never seen it before."

The swirling patterns on the computer array's keyboard suddenly jogged Donna's memory of something the Doctor had mentioned earlier. "You said that the language on the computers was Gallifreyan? Doesn't that mean this planet belonged to your people?"

The Doctor puffed out his cheeks and violently shook his head, feigning an unknowing expression. "I suppose. I knew nothing about it."

"That's a _little _surprising, Doctor." Donna shot him an incredulous look, seeing through his acting straight away.

"It's true!" He ripped his glasses from his face and roughly shoved them into his suit's inside pocket. "I've never seen or heard of this planet before – if I had then don't you think I would have said something?"

"She's right though, Doctor." Jude put down what he was doing and took a sudden interest in the conversation. The man's narrow face and angular features were sunken with tiredness and misery, but his eyes still glowed with their last reserves of sanity; the dying embers of an exhausted fire. "You have a very similar name to this 'Wordsmith'. I had him inside my head, just for a moment, but it was long enough. And he _was _a story. He lived and breathed it, and all he kept whispering about was _you._ I thought it was meaningless gibberish back then but…you know." His words trailed off into nothing, as if he felt he had already said too much.

"What Jude's _trying _to say," Donna said, stepping forwards cautiously, "is that you sound the same. You both sound like Time Lords."

Jude nodded fervently, as if this perfectly summed up what he was thinking inside.

"Is this true, Doctor?" Jorena's face twisted into a shape Donna thought couldn't possibly be possible with a bone structure like hers. "That Wordsmith is…like _you?_"

A lengthy silence; the Doctor's face darkened, his usually friendly brown eyes flashing with a frightening malice as he struggled against the anger and denial surging through him. His voice fell to a tone that was both low and dangerous. "Take a _really_ goodlook at him…" He looked at all of them in turn. "He is _nothing _like me."

With that the subject was dropped. The computer screens suddenly buzzed with excitement as they proclaimed that the transmitter had enough power to send out a signal; the data-cores primed and ready to release their many prisoners. The Doctor only needed one more thing, and he hoped that it was ready to be attached to the transmitter; to pound more energy into the teleport beacon. _Then, _and only then, would everything be complete.

Nervously, as if torn between the fear of being too late or too soon, the Doctor edged his finger closer to the button that would destroy the Wordsmith's reign forever…

* * *

"Are you bored, Jarg?"

Jenny was sat halfway up the transmitter's mound, picking at blades of grass and letting them flutter away in the breeze. The Yuluxian was slumped a few metres away from her, eyes vigilantly scanning the tree-line as he too churned up the earth with his bare paws, ungracefully copying her gentle motions. At Jenny's question he gave an agreeing nod. In truth they were both worried, about Jack more than anything. It was a beautiful day, the wind was cool and fresh and the three suns beat down their tender warmth in a way that caressed the skin. If it hadn't have been for the ugly Sharndrix ship in the distance and the black cloud slowly making its way overhead, it could have been a perfect morning. The scarred landscape served as a constant reminder as to why they were here, and they knew that the time to act was going to come soon.

Jack had told them to wait for the transmitter to send its signal. Only then could she attach the little metal box to it, but truthfully she didn't really know what to look for. She'd neglected to ask that question, her mind still spinning with anger over her father's callous behaviour. What would it look like? Was it an invisible signal left to her judgement, or a beacon of shining light that would rival a sun? She could only anxiously wait and see. Clammy hands gripping the energy transponder, Jenny got up and began to pace up and down the hill, gazing over at the transmitter every five seconds to look for a sign of it working. Nothing. The silver pole shot up into the heavens, ending in a point that looked as if it was touching the clouds. It was held upright by four thick cables that were hammered deep into the earth, probably welded to the metal surface of the planet itself. Dizzy from gazing up into the wide, open sky, Jenny was about to sit down on the grass again when something in the distance made her pause.

The tree line to the north, a good five hundred yards from the transmitter, was suddenly rustling, the trees and bushes shaking their leaves with wild abandon. There was little to no wind, at least not powerful enough to cause a disturbance on this scale.

"Jarg…" Jenny called, beckoning for the Yuluxian to come to her side. As soon as he did so, the rustling stopped. A few sparse leaves could be seen fluttering to the ground in the wake of the fracas, but then everything went deathly still. Even the breeze died to a halt, leaving the atmosphere warm and sticky. Jenny was then aware of a heavy buzzing sound. It was more like the dull thudding of a helicopter's blades than the delicate drone of a bee's wings, but her heart leapt to her throat when she recognised where she had heard it before. Again they were ambushed.

This time, half a dozen of the Sharndrix flyers materialised out of thin air, the active camouflage rippling and shimmering to reveal their ugly exoskeletons. By reflex she reached for the gun holster at her side, relieved to find Jack's gun still resting there, waiting for her. There was very little ammunition left in the clip however. The first insect that launched itself at her took a few rounds and crashed to the ground, dead. The next two knew what to expect and took things more cautiously. Jarg took hold of one and literally wrestled with the creature, ripping off legs and wings until it screamed in agony. Jenny was about to shoot at the other but it got to her first. At first she just saw its claws slash at her; heard what she thought was the horrendous rip of her shirt being torn, but it wasn't that at all. It was flesh. She briefly glanced down, horrified to see blood, _her blood_, soaking into the khaki green material. There was heat, the hot flow of blood gliding across skin, and then came the first wave of sickening pain. She doubled over, ready to collapse to the ground and black out. Within moments she felt her head connect with the hard ground.

The insect that attacked her hissed in triumph and was about to swoop in for the killing blow, claws outstretched to savage her. Jarg stepped in, covered in orange blood. Two of his mighty arms struck the Sharndrix before it even knew he was there, hitting it back into a few others who were hovering nearby. Desperately he shook his friend by the shoulder, urging her to get up. He was frantically pointing at something above him, and Jenny thought for a moment that he was worried about the Sharndrix. Trying to clear her failing vision, she squinted past him to see that the transmitter was glowing, silver energy pulsing up the spire and into the clouds. There was a buzzing sensation in the air and her teeth rattled with it…or was that just her wound, losing so much blood, playing tricks with her mind?

Nevertheless she struggled to her feet, holding one side of her ribcage whilst fumbling for the energy transponder. She realised with a jolt that she had been holding it before she was attacked. Now it was gone! The one thing she was supposed to protect with her life, and it had been knocked from her grasp as easy as that. Jarg held back the Sharndrix as best as he could, but he was slowly tiring. They were deliberately wearing him down, knowing that if they got too close he would kill them, but if they stayed at just the right distance and harried him, he would have no choice but to take swings at them to keep them at bay. Jenny staggered about desperately, scanning the ground to try and spot the small silver box amongst the grass. Finally, after a painful, dizzying minute of searching, she saw it glinting in the sunlight near the bottom of the mound. _Of all the places it could be, it had to be there,_ she thought to herself, so tired that each step she took was like walking with lead bricks for feet. The soldier in her marched on. She stumbled slightly down the hill, wincing as the movement of having to bend down to get the transponder agitated her wound.

Blood now covered the hand clutching it. The Sharndrix that were buzzing around Jarg were staring at her malevolently, their jaws dripping with a putrid looking saliva. Could they smell the blood? Jarg must have been a mere distraction, because desperation seemingly fuelled their desire for her flesh. Jenny was only a few steps away from the transmitter when they decided to attack. Two of them launched themselves at Jarg as if offering up their lives as a sacrifice, and despite taking mortal wounds they tore at Jarg's furry body as if it were butter. His screams filled the air, sending a chill down Jenny's spine. In a moment of panic she wanted to see if he was alright, but now there were another three of the creatures closing in fast on her. She had no choice. She shot her arm out in front of her and planted the box on the transmitter, the silver energy rippling at the new device's touch.

The Sharndrix were only metres away, their talons outstretched like a bird of prey reaching for the kill. Jenny expected death. She slumped at the base of the transmitter, too tired to try and stop them. Darkness began to gather at the edges of her eyes, and the last thing she felt was a sensation of being lifted up and pushed backwards. There was no pain – no sting of regret. She had done what she came here to do. A warm silver light encompassed the last dying seconds of her sight, and then there was a sound like the pulsing heartbeat of the earth; soft and comforting as if she was being folded away into the depths of a womb.

Then there was nothing.

* * *

No matter how many steps Jack took, the transmitter was always visible behind him, a celestial monument against the carnage he was currently walking through. From left to right there was churned up mud akin to the battlefield at Verdun; trees piled up, gutted and thrown to either side, and flames flickering across the landscape as smoke slowly made a foul mist that hung in the air. Even the three suns, piercing and fierce as they were, could not possibly penetrate the black cloud that reached over the sky like a deathly hand, smothering him in a premature twilight. Then in the distance, ever ominous in its sheer size and majesty, was the twisted, sundered hull of the Sharndrix ship. The Cruncher trundled along beside him, her blood-splattered metal body shivering and shaking until he thought it would break apart.

So far the land had been completely devoid of Sharndrix. There were no feral screams, no soldiers scrubbing the landscape for scraps of food. Although a good sign, Jack found it disconcerting. The Sharndrix horde, even on just one ship, was a mighty force to be reckoned with. There were so many that, surely, not all of them could have made their way into the planet? There had to be at least some left in the ship, including the Swarm-mind, their Queen. She was not much to worry about. She was no fighter, only the centre of a collective that gave orders to her soldiers from afar. Nevertheless, she made them more deadly and intelligent, and Jack was dreading being within her calling range. Upon reaching a slight rise in the ground, the first signs of full-scale Sharndrix invasion were suddenly becoming apparent – the mud became more brittle, its usual dull brown turning black and glassy like obsidian.

It was getting hard to find his footing. Several times he slipped and cut himself on a sharp edge that jutted out from the alien rock formations, but within seconds, as always, his blood would congeal and the wound slowly began to stitch itself up. Jack was thankful for that, at least. The Cruncher simply trundled over the dark glass, breaking it up with her tracks. It couldn't have been too dissimilar to riding over the broken bodies of long-gone robots. Finally the ground levelled out, and as far as the eye could see in all directions was a wasteland of the black glass, some of it already built up into tall spires and formidable fortifications. Unfortunately for Jack, the ship was quickly becoming the centre of their new city, and sharp, lethal looking walls were being constructed around the circumference of it.

There were workers crawling across the structures, their swollen abdomens squirting a black liquid over what they had built until it solidified and became the obsidian glass itself. Nervously, Jack made his way up to the walls and spires, beacon powered up and now in hand. The workers wouldn't fight him – they were so preoccupied with their construction work that they probably, hopefully, wouldn't notice him and a large robot passing through anyway. However, if they did, the alarm would be raised and the soldiers would appear. Jack ordered the Cruncher to halt. Her tracks were grinding across the glass ground and making too much noise. If the workers found out, they wouldn't be too happy to see her ripping up what they had built. She stopped, whimpering quietly with the revs of her engines. Her headlights looked up at the spire she was sitting next to, and at the numerous insect bodies that scuttled across it. They were blind to her being there but that didn't stop her from quivering with fear.

Jack passed through the boundaries of the wall, his boots occasionally crunching the brittle glass but not loud enough that the workers were bothered by it. A few made him jump by leaping off of the structures and scuttling across the ground to another location, their huge, pan-shaped heads bobbing from left to right as they sniffed at their handiwork. There was no doubt about it: they were stupid creatures, simple, thick and dull. As long as they stayed that way, Jack didn't care. He checked the energy transponder on the beacon. Nothing. The Doctor had obviously not activated the transmitter yet, otherwise Jenny would have attached the other transponder to activate his own. He gritted his teeth with anxiety, silently urging them to hurry up. The beacon glowed softly with its green light, pulsing like a heartbeat. To think that if he just reached his hand into its depths, he would be home and this whole catastrophe might never have happened. It was almost too good to be true, but Jack steeled himself.

He was not Jude Benson, and there was nothing back home for him anyway. What mattered was now. He shook his head to clear the thoughts from his mind and concentrated on getting closer to the ship, hoping that by the time he reached it the beacon would be ready to send it back to where it came from – that fateful day where his whole life had changed for the worst. Suddenly, there was a problem. The ground began to slope down sharply into a dark pit that stretched out diagonally in front of him and ended at the base of the ship. It was a tear in the planet's surface, the silver panelling ripped up from the ship's crash landing. Jack came to the edge carefully and peered over. He could see nothing except the odd pinprick of light in the distance, but the rest was impenetrable darkness. Anyone could walk up to it and think it was only a few metres deep, but Jack knew from experience that the depths of the planet went on for what felt like an eternity. The pit must have been at least a hundreds of feet deep, maybe more, the cool breeze that emanated from the gap confirming its cavernous space.

Jack started looking for a way around. There was nothing to the left where the glass structures the workers had built were encroaching on the edge of the pit, practically overhanging it. The right was clearer, but for how long? He had no choice. Jack started the difficult march to the right of the pit, making good progress for the next few minutes of his journey. The ship was a yawning mass in front of him, unbelievably huge now that he was up close. It was almost hard to believe that five years ago on his timeline, he had infiltrated this ship and brought it down. If it could do this kind of damage to a planet made of metal…Jack shuddered at the thought of the pieces of it falling down on cities, houses, people…but then his guilt was washed away as he felt pincers close in around his neck and the sensation of something sharp drive into his skin. Panic kicking in, he tried to wrestle from his captor's grasp and turn the beacon on it, but the pincer's grip was too strong.

All he saw through the blood and saliva were endless rows of pointed teeth, all ready to chew him up and swallow him whole. Then it stopped, its jaws clicking shut. The once docile worker insect resumed its harmless, almost innocent gaze, tilting its head as if Jack was something to be studied. He realised all to late that it was merely listening. Two slimy tendrils suddenly ejected from the tips of the creature's antennas, wriggling their way across the back of Jack's neck as they searched for an entrance into his skull. He squirmed against the cold, wet sensation, struggling in vain to reach the beacon that had slipped from his grasp when he had panicked. All he succeeded in doing was ripping his flesh even further on the insect's teeth, which were firmly planted in the base of his neck. Resistance futile, he felt a wave of infuriating calm wash over him as the tendrils entered through his ears, slithering their way into his head.

There were two dull aches where they reached his brain, and then his vision swam in an ocean of sickly green. He was paralysed now, seemingly drifting underwater, drowned, with no desire to do anything else. He knew he should fight it, but the thought was apparently deleted from his mind every time he thought it. Veins of black edged into the corners of his sight, as if his blood had been poisoned and twisted into something alien. He eventually realised that what he was looking at was indeed alien; the pulsing, ghastly mass of a brain. Jack began to feel sick. A primal, raspy voice, too baritone to be female yet carrying the weight and authority of a queen rattled inside his skull, seemingly causing his teeth to chatter. A thousand whispers danced around the words, as if the whole Sharndrix fleet was speaking at once. _"Ah…so the prey arrives at our door. No matter. Flesh succumbs whether there is a hunt or not."_

Jack thought nonchalantly, as if the voice inside his head was nothing, that this must have been the Swarm-mind. There was a low growl as a response – inhuman screeches intermingled with the guttural sound.

"_I am as you think I am. Your plans to usurp us are forfeit. This world is ours now, human, and you can do nothing to stop the horde."_

Jack doubted its words, and was rewarded with a sharp stab of pain in his mind.

"_They will come from the depths to deal with you, and as one we will render this planet Sharndrix." _A feral, wailing cry preceded the creature's next words as it detached itself from his brain. _"Goodbye, Jack Harkness."_

With that the tendrils receded away, and he was left with nothing but merciful unconsciousness.

* * *

His world was in chaos. The Wordsmith flitted from one wrecked corridor to the other, so dazed by the destruction and total lack of order that he almost forgot what he was looking for: the primary control centre. There he could restore his control over the robots and then…the thought unexpectedly broke off and the unfamiliar feeling of despair washed over him. Why? What was the point? The Doctor was right all along. He couldn't hope to defeat the Sharndrix horde that, even now, had control over most of the planet. _His _planet. How had a race of primitive, barbaric insects succeeded where he, a noble and intelligent Time Lord, had failed? Anger soon replaced his confusion. No. He was _not _going to give in now. He had worked at this for far too long to just admit defeat.

Soaring over the bodies of his vanquished army and fallen foes, the Wordsmith made his way to the primary control centre regardless, all the while fighting off the steadily increasing feeling of desolation. His work was being unravelled bit by bit, the strings of fate and time being unwound and restored to what it originally was: chaos. Everything was becoming chaos. The Doctor must have found a way to clear the data cores, but such an undertaking was huge…colossal in fact. The Wordsmith suddenly feared for his own life over that of his work. He sped up, swerving around a corner to come nearly face-to-face with a battle in progress. Robot limbs were being hurled across the corridor. Orange blood was sprayed up against the silver walls in what could have been a gross attempt at art.

This, however, was not the worst part in the Wordsmith's eyes. The worst thing of all was seeing his once loyal, obedient servants turn their attentions away from the monstrous insects and lock their infuriated, almost deranged gaze on him. Their eyes shone a blood-soaked crimson – their hands twisted and deformed from the acidic blood to form fey-like claws. The mob of robots suddenly surged forwards, maddened by the sight of their former leader. The few Sharndrix remaining became engulfed – crushed – under the tide of metal bodies, their petrified screams almost drowned out over the furious cries of the robots. Without their control chips functioning, they were free to feel whatever they wanted, and the Wordsmith knew that it was his fault. He had done this to them; created this anger that now threatened to destroy him. Without his body he had no hope of defeating them.

He erected his shield defences, hoping that that and his ability to hover out of reach would be enough to avoid most of the robots. Gliding across the ceiling, the Wordsmith managed to escape the brunt of their attacks. Twisted hands reached upwards for him, feverishly clawing at the shields that thankfully held and repelled them. His need to get to the control centre was now vital. He accelerated, dodging any robot that got the clever idea of climbing atop the others to reach him. There must have been hundreds of them packed into the corridor; a squirming mass of rage-stricken limbs that, like a crowd of savage anarchists, lunged at the first movement they discovered. The Wordsmith could see it was quickly becoming an internal struggle between the masses. They were starting to mistake each other for the Wordsmith, grabbing the wrong robot just as he slipped out of their grasp. Madness and chaos ensued amongst the ranks.

Just as he thought he had evaded the worst of it, and the path before him started to clear, the Wordsmith's futile hopes were dashed as he saw the very cataclysm that would doom him. His house was dividing. The metal seams that had been ripped apart from the Sharndrix ship on the surface were splitting like an eggshell, revealing the purple form of the ship far above them. Scuttling across the failing structure of the planet was the retreating mass of insects, not scared it seemed but more determined to get to somewhere other than the depths of the world. The Wordsmith hovered there for a moment, agape at the horror unfolding before him. He almost forgot about the robots in pursuit. They raced down the corridor after him, but before their frenzied bodies could reach the Wordsmith he was gone, following the Sharndrix to the surface of the planet.

Somewhere he hadn't been in thousands of years…


End file.
